


"A New Beginning"

by helenkacan



Series: The Davies!Verse [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Coming Out, First Time, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helenkacan/pseuds/helenkacan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles has a second date. Back in England, busy with the new Council, he'd not expected to have many options for meeting someone new and definitely not for romance. That, it seemed, was solely for the youngsters, something to complicate their lives. Until he finds himself in an unusual relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I created this Verse on November 18, 2006, and posted it on Live Journal, continuing the gen stories I'd been posting about Giles daily since November 1. At that point, I decided to give Giles a sex life! Aren't I a kind person?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting impatiently for his second date to begin, Giles remembers how the first one ended. He and Davies had shared how they'd lost former partners to death, but then moved on to embrace life ... and each other.

Rupert Giles paced impatiently at the entrance to the pub, checking his watch and wishing to hell he had a fag. He hadn't taken them up again ... but there were times when he wished he could have something to fiddle with, to make him look less anxious, needy. //Blast it all.// He was _not_ needy, refused to acknowledge it, even though he and Davies had spent an incredible evening together two nights ago. And, then, towards dawn, Giles had had to get dressed and force his protesting joints onto his bike, trying to rev it in gear without disturbing the neighbours. The reality was there were meetings he had to chair. He had responsibility. He had a purpose. And ... yet ... he had lust splayed over his body in large purple letters. Covering up the feelings with clothing had felt so awkward, so unnatural, he'd hated having to slide out of bed, out from under Davies's bent leg, thigh comfortably securing him to the bed. Davies had rolled over and the last view Giles had of him was his delectable naked butt promising more bliss ... the next time.

Not that they'd actually fucked. Davies had no supplies at home and Giles had certainly not gone out to the pub with the intent of finding someone to shag. Meet, yes. The pub was a casual place with a certain male clientele: older, discreet, not likely to inspire protests from the nearby merchants or residents.

He and Davies had started chatting over a pint of Guinness and had moved to a corner table so they could hear themselves over the others. Giles wasn't certain what had attracted him to Davies but certainly liked the sparkle in the man's blue eyes. He refused to entertain the physical resemblance to someone he'd ... lost ... through circumstance. //Yes, it was a catastrophe.// But he shook his head. The past was just that and the dead were, if not properly buried, then gone.

Giles was amused when Davies said that he used his surname as his only identification. Although Giles could have done the same (and mentioned how it had been used by youngsters in California), he'd been cautious and offered only his first name. "I'm Rupert."

"Haven't seen you in these parts before."

"Well, I've just returned from America and keep a flat in Bath."

Davies eyed him speculatively. "Handy, that."

Giles replied, dryly, "Quite."

As it was almost impossible to carry on a lengthy conversation, Davies had invited Giles over for a drink and, to his surprise, Giles accepted. He'd thought Davies seemed to be a decent enough fellow and anyone who freely gave his surname would not be likely to do him ill.

Giles stopped his pacing and fidgeting. He was transported two nights back. How he and Davies had sat next to a freshly laid small fire and talked, their glasses of good Bordeaux untouched. Davies had recounted how he'd lost his partner three years ago. A pilot with the RAF, Andrew had flown in a training exercise in nasty weather conditions. The plane was smashed and Andrew had still been strapped in his seat, unable to activate the eject mechanism.

Davies stopped for a moment and took a sip of the wine, rolling it over his tongue. When he began again, his voice was softer, seemed more resigned. "That's one reason why I'm known only by my last name. We'd talked about it. Wished we could have married. If we had, he'd already decided he wanted to take my name. His family would have disowned him anyway. So, when he died, I wanted to honour him ... and our relationship. It seemed so logical at the time."

Giles had also taken a few sips of the fine wine but placed the glass back on the table. He reached out a trembling, tenuous hand and touched Davies on the back of his hand. "And now?"

"Now I just want to start living again. Please don't misunderstand. I'll always love Andrew but Andrew's flying in a higher realm. I can't join him until my time here is done." Davies looked up at Giles with anguish in his eyes. Had he said too much, opened up to this complete stranger? He hoped not.

Giles took a long breath. "I've lost loved ones also. The first one, she ... well, she was murdered by a monster. And, yet, every day I wonder what I could have done to prevent it." //Like spanking some sense into Buffy.// "And, recently, someone to whom I'd refused to commit myself; the dear boy was killed in a natural disaster." //As natural as evil can be.//

Davies turned his arm over so that he was clasping Giles's hand. He echoed the words, "And now?"

"I don't know. Perhaps tonight was the first step in returning to the present. Even if I don't meet the perfect ... someone and – if you're wondering – it's more likely to be a man, I want to be out reminding myself why I'm still alive. That I should be doing some living." //As Buffy would have put it, 'Carping some diem.'//

Davies stood up and pulled Giles up by the hand he was still holding. "Would you call this a first step for both of us in moving on?"

Giles's mouth quirked in that slightly sardonic way. "I think I could be persuaded to consider it."

"What else can I do?"

"This." And Giles raised his other hand to stroke Davies down his cheek, leaning in to press a short, soft kiss on the lips.

The moan startled both of them. Davies grinned. "I think we've been repressing more than just our emotions for too long. Care to progress to the next level?"

Giles grinned in return. "Let's."

Davies led him, still holding his hand, to the small bedroom that barely held a bed. But the bed was large and looked comfortable.

Giles sat on the bed and watched as Davies simply, yet methodically, disrobed. The clothes were draped over a chair back, the shoes kicked under it. When he was finished, he turned back to Giles who was showing his own evidence of having enjoyed the view.

"I hope you don't mind placing your clothes on top of mine. But I've always held that a large bed is more important than a clothes-press and valet stand."

Giles didn't respond but stood as Davies approached the bed. He'd already had his internal dialogue about the condition of his body. If he had to, he'd explain the scars in as few words as possible. But he was hoping that Davies would not be so shallow as to focus on them. When he had finished undressing and had placed his clothing atop the pile, he turned to Davies who had pulled back the covers and was standing by the bed.

Davies merely lifted an eyebrow and said, "I see you've had some hard living."

Giles found an apt euphemism. "I've had my share of natural disasters."

"I hope they're in the past."

"As do I."

The words were cut off as Davies sat down and pulled Giles onto the bed. Giles closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of having another body touching his ... trusting him ... wanting him. He sighed deeply.

Davies whispered, "Are you alright?"

"I think I shall be. Now, where were we?"

Davies replied by rolling Giles over so that Giles was now pinned on his back, one hand held above his head. //Ah, so that's how we're going to play this game.//

Giles used the superior conditioning of his training routines to roll Davies under him, then sat back upon the man's thighs. "Any requests?"

"Blast it, man, just touch me."

"But I am _touching_ you."

"That's not what I meant and you know --"

His speech was cut off suddenly as a well licked thumb trailed over his balls and up the underside of his cock. Davies shivered from the sensation of having another man's fingers gliding over his body after so many years. //Too long, too damn long.//

Giles was happy to continue what he was doing. Something in Davies's tale had touched him deeply and he was responding, reaching out, offering solace, offering himself, the only way he knew. Not that he was suffering. Oh, his cock was rigid and his balls heavy, but it had been too long since he'd had someone beneath him, especially someone as lovely as Davies.

He ground himself into Davies's groin, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but merely left slippery wet trails on the man's thighs. Giles bent down, drawn by the intense brilliance of the blue eyes and kissed him. This time it was deliberate. Hard. Probing. Tongue demanding entry. And Davies yielded, his head falling back, his neck stretched in submission.

Once again, Giles could not believe the gift of the body laid out before him, a feast for his eyes, hands and mouth. He claimed the man's tight nipples, rolling them between his fingers, as he sought his throat and gave it a sharp nip at the base.

Davies reared up, shivering from the sensory messages his body was trying to assimilate. //Too much. I'm so close....// The words escaped through his lips. "So close ... please...."

Giles slid between his thighs, moving down the bed so that he could reach his goal. His fingers seized the throbbing prick and squeezed it rhythmically, while he lowered his head to envelop Davies's head between his lips, flicking his tongue back and forth on the underside. Davies was breathing harshly, shallowly and reached out to grab Giles's hand as his other one clutched the sheets in desperation.

Davies opened his mouth, but no sound came forth. His back arched as his cock thrust more deeply into Giles's mouth. And, then, he came. Each contraction of his pelvis driving ... expelling more milky fluid. Giles finally had to let go with his mouth. He was no longer a young man and he was ... out of practice. But he used his other hand to press Davies behind his balls (as Davies had limply released the hand he'd been grasping) to prolong the fleeting jolts of pleasure as long as possible.

Giles slid back up the body beneath him, paying no attention to the stickiness that could probably produce a serviceable papier-maché sculpture. He shook that absurd thought from his head as he drew close to Davies's mouth. A mouth that was smiling at him with impish intent, as well as protruding a daring tongue licking his upper lip.

//So that's how he wants it, eh.// Giles swooped down and latched onto the teasing mouth, thrusting his tongue in and sharing the taste.

When they drew apart a minute later, Davies glanced down at Giles whose erection was still evident, though having lost some of its earlier eagerness. "You know, I _really_ wish you could fuck me, but...."

Giles picked up the thought. "But it's too soon. I know that."

Davies gave a shy smile. "Not only that. But I've no supplies. You know ... because ... because we never needed to use condoms. Andrew and I, we were...." His voice failed him and unshed tears were threatening to spill over.

Giles cupped his face between his hands. "Shh. It's alright. I'm alright. I won't wilt." He gave out a tiny grunt. "Well, _actually_ , I will, but that's not the end of the world."

Davies persisted. "But there're other things we could do. What about this?"

As he moved to demonstrate, Giles groaned, for his cock was now trapped between two strong thighs and the path had been eased by their mingled fluids. No, it wasn't ideal, but Giles was still _within_ the body of this man whom he'd met just hours ago and whom he was coming to cherish.

As his hips swayed to an ever-increasing tempo, Giles clutched the hands resting on his hips and forced them back onto the bed. The mere thought of restraining this man and taking him the next time was enough to send him crashing through to an ecstatic release. He collapsed upon the body beneath him and then rolled off, apologizing as some of both their pubic hairs had become tangled. He hissed in irritation as a few hairs were pulled out.

Davies laughed, but not unkindly. "I don't think you'll refuse the offer of a quick shower before we go to bed." He was anticipating, assuming ... much. But he was also a good judge of character and Giles had passed.

When they returned to bed, they tossed a clean sheet over the messy one and then arranged themselves in some semblance of a yoga position combined with a game of nude Twister. But neither complained, as they were replete with endorphins, warm bodies and the beginning of a new friendship.

So, when Giles had extricated himself from the body parts puzzle, he looked down at Davies indulgently and left a scribbled note on the night table. "Call me."

Forcing himself from the very pleasant reverie, Giles heard someone calling his name. He looked up and saw Davies striding toward him. As the two men hugged briefly before entering the pub, Davies spoke in a low but excited voice. "I'm so sorry I was delayed. And I couldn't call the barman to let you know that I'd be late, because I'd left the blasted cell charger at home." As they sat down at a table, Davies lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Besides, I had to visit the Chemist's. I thought we might be needing these ... soon."

Giles didn't have to look at the bag or its contents. He _knew_ exactly what was in there. And he had a warm feeling in his torso that was on the brink of claiming his tired, old heart. He had found a dear, sweet man.

And hoped that it would be many, many years before there was another natural disaster.


	2. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How is Giles adjusting to having a personal life again? Saturdays used to be devoted to chores. Now, weeks later, Giles finds he's rather fond of chores, puttering around while Davies is ... er ... tied up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild bondage.

Rupert Giles walked into the bedroom drying his hands on a tea towel. He'd just finished washing the lunch dishes which Davies could not do, as he was so _obviously_ tied up. And that was not only a figure of speech. This time.

Giles giggled, softly. It never failed to fill him with an appreciation of the man's beauty when he saw him lying face down, spread-eagled on the bed. Long limbs, strong thighs – which were still standing in stead of a proper fuck – deceptively muscled. Graceful back, sinuous despite the confines of the cotton ropes and padded leather cuffs.

He'd gotten Davies _in the mood_ with a languorous massage. When Davies could do no more than lift a hand, Giles brought out the set of ropes and restraints, all newly purchased. He didn't need to obtain vocal consent: he'd already guessed from the hints Davies had left hanging in the air, the yearning look in his eyes, some of his positions in bed and – always – the thing that got him the hardest, Davies exposing his neck. //Face it, old man, you've been around vampires far too long.// But, as far as kinks went, it was innocuous.

With full comprehension and a rising flush on his cheeks, Davies permitted Giles to put him in restraints and to tie the ropes that had been slipped underneath the mattress at both ends. Bondage on a budget at its best.

Giles had no intention of doing anything more severe than restraining Davies. //One of the benefits of growing older, I suppose.// He'd had his wild and dangerous thrills, the giving and receiving of pain.

But this ... this was all about tenderness ... of trust ... and, dare he even think it, of love.

So he'd left Davies secure in the bed, able to luxuriate in the dappled late afternoon sunlight, gently filtered by the trees. And he'd walked away, wearing nothing but a pair of blue velour trousers. Davies liked him best with only them on. He liked the look ... the sound of bare feet on the wooden floors, though he would have to put rugs in before winter set in. And, of course, Giles's bare back and finely hair-sprinkled chest. Davies _knew_ that, despite Giles's initial nonchalance, the state of his back embarrassed him _still_ ; so Davies encouraged the semi-nudity and not only for his own personal enjoyment. He'd also found the power imbalance thrilling: when he was nude and Giles was wearing the trousers. The thought of it was enough to make him stay hard for hours.

Not that he especially wanted to stay hard for hours right now. But he was content to lie on the bed, unable to move. Well, he _could_ wriggle slightly, though that only stimulated his cock even more. He wasn't in any danger and, if he felt any discomfort, he could call out to Giles whose performance of domestic chores he could hear down the hall.

Yet, despite the fleeting and impatient signals his cock was sending to his brain, he was content to lie there, spread out for Giles's enjoyment. He felt warm – and it wasn't only from the gentle heat of the sun. He felt loved, more now than at any time since he'd met Giles. He wondered how his being bound could be a metaphor for feeling protected, safe and ... yes ... loved. He was in no hurry to put any cards out on the table and didn't think Giles was, either. They were neither of them young men and they'd seemingly outgrown the desperation of being constantly reassured of one's sexual attractiveness and prowess. He could see it in Giles's eyes and knew that his own reflected the same sentiment. They'd been together for eight weeks, meeting at least twice each week. Sometimes, especially mid-week, they only had time for a quick pint at the pub before Giles was called away for an evening meeting. But, with a quick kiss and a lingering hug, he'd send Giles back in a much better frame of mind, ready to face whatever challenges arose. On the other hand, Saturdays were for indulging themselves. Giles could stay the night and, in the event of an _extreme_ (and Giles had made that point very clear) emergency, the council receptionist had Davies's telephone number.

But, barring that entirely not-to-be-thought-of emergency, Giles was his for the night. Well, perhaps _not_ from his currently bound position. But he was sure he could persuade Giles to do something about it ... well, perhaps in an hour or so. He just didn't want to relinquish the relaxed state of his body, the way in which his muscles were turning into butter, despite the heat that was surging through his groin.

Giles had finally walked over to the bed and sat down next to Davies's waist. “How are you doing?”

“Alright, though it's been a bit lonely.”

“Ah, well, there were the chores, but I _am_ back now.”

“Good. Join me, please.”

“What would you like?”

“Could you lie down on me. It's heavenly when the weight of your body presses me into the bed.” And there was even more proof of what Davies liked, what turned him on so much. Giles was quick to get on the bed, even though he was still wearing the trousers.

“How's that?”

“Not bad ... for a start. But you could remove your trousers, you know.”

Giles quirked an eyebrow, even though he knew Davies could not see the expression on his face. “Could I? But then what would I do?”

Davies moaned. “You _do_ know you're torturing me.”

“So sorry. I had _no_ idea.” He slid over just so that he could slip out of the apparently offending trousers and then lay back down, covering his lover's body.

Twin echoes of “Ahh” issued forth, a syncopation in the quiet, gentle moment.

Giles made sure to slide up and down the body beneath him before asking, “Anything else?”

Davies's voice sounded impatient. “How on earth did you ever become the Chair of such an important organization if you don't take the initiative, especially when the route is so plainly delineated.”

The sardonic reply, “Well, I didn't want you to think me pushy.”

Davies nearly growled out his name in irritation, “Rupert.” There seemed to be far too many syllables in that one word.

“Mmmm. Hang on a moment. I'm on to something.” After standing and releasing the ropes from Davies's ankles, he quickly linked the two cuffs together. And with practised ease, Giles reached over to the night table where the supplies were kept, the box of condoms still unopened, though the lube supply was getting quite low. As he slicked himself quickly, he moved back onto the bed to envelop Davies with the presence, the comfort, the security of his own body. And his desire, as he thrust within the tightly clenched thighs beneath him. After he'd come, he would return the favour. He knew what Davies liked best. But not before driving the man towards extended frustration and pleading for release. More likely sexual rather than physical. The cuffs he could leave on overnight. He anticipated Davies's delighted response.

No, they still hadn't fucked. It would happen in its own time. But they were both having fun and enjoying themselves.

And that was all that mattered.


	3. Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles is beset by three women, neighbours of Davies. How is Giles dealing with being recognized as Davies's partner? Hmmm. Davies will have to work on that.

Rupert Giles hummed as he turned the corner on his bike. For some illogical reason, the Council's insurers would not permit him to drive his own car, but insisted on his having a driver. On the other hand, he could just hop on his bike and ride it anywhere. Which was very good, as he was just parking his bike at the side of Davies's flat. As he slung his leg off, he saw that one of his lover's neighbours, a pleasant looking redhead in her mid 50s was waving at him. He had no option but to approach her.

"Hello, I'm Joanna Grimes, but please call me Jo."

"Ah ... well ... yes, Jo." He paused, wondering if the normal rules of etiquette were applicable to nosey neighbours. "I'm Rupert Giles. May I offer you any assistance?"

"Oh, dear heavens, no. I just wanted to take a closer look at such a distinguished gentleman as yourself. We're all thrilled that Mr. Davies has found himself someone, especially after ... well, you _do_ know what happened to dear Andrew?"

Jo had the decency to look embarrassed, but this conversation, or more properly monologue, was beginning to disturb Giles. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Jo, but I must really get inside. I have some food that must be kept frozen."

"Oh, dear me. Please don't stay on my account. Tell Mr. Davies that I said, 'Ta'."

"Ta." The word came out of his mouth as if he had chewed something nasty. "I'll be sure to give him your regards."

"And perhaps we'll be seeing the two of you at the year-end Gala." He heard the name of some awkwardly named charity, "The Home For Misplaced Girls With Ponies" or some similar nonsense.

"I shall see if my schedule will permit it."

"Wonderful. The two of you will be the talk of the evening."

"Well, um, really, Jo, I must go." And he quickly turned and fled into the flat, thankful that he didn't have to dig for the spare key, as the door was unlocked.

By the time Giles had made his escape, he was already working on a proper glare. Davies approached him, wearing oven mitts, apparently not noticing anything different in his demeanor., and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, love. I've just taken dinner out of the oven. Come and sit. Did you bring the dessert?"

"Bloody hell, man. I've just gone through an interrogation. Does everyone know everything about me?"

Davies stepped back, finally aware of his lover's irritability. "Ah, I guess you've met Eleanor, El for short; or Joanna, Jo for short; or was it Millicent, Mil for short." Davies was trying to keep the chuckle out of his voice, because he really thought his neighbours were an odd bunch of birds.

"It was Jo."

"And _yet_ you seem to have emerged unscathed." He raised an eyebrow in mock emphasis.

"Davies, I don't find this at all amusing. To have people talking about you ... me ... it's unsettling. I don't like to feel as if I'm being spied on."

Davies drew off the oven mitts and threw them down on a table. He pulled Giles close to him and hugged him. And, then, despite Giles's ill humour, kissed him. "Feeling a bit better?"

Giles snorted. "A little. You know me too well. But I'd still like an explanation."

"Look, Rupert, these women have lived in this square for their entire married lives. Their children have flown the coop and they're bored. So, when they spy me swooping in with my design studio, they're intrigued. Their husbands are gone all day and I'm the only man around. Add a dashing air force officer into the mix and they're enthralled. They call themselves the Thieving Magpies."

Giles had softened, hearing his lover's words. "After the opera?"

"Quite. They're not without some culture, you know. But they've lacked opportunity. Still, Rupert, I'll tell you they kept me going when Andrew was killed. They swept in here with home-cooked meals every day for a fortnight. Took me shopping, asking my advice. They kept me distracted enough so that I couldn't sink into despair. And it's not as if they're the most enlightened souls around so, please, whatever you do, don't bring up politics or rights. But they were there when I needed someone."

Giles sat down on the chair in the hall and pulled Davies down to straddle his legs. "It's just that ... I feel helpless. I'm not used to having people talk about me. Observing me. Judging me."

"So what hideous things did Jo say to you?" Davies nuzzled under Giles's jaw. Occasionally he liked to play at being the dominant one.

"Mmmm. Yes. Right there. Um, well, she called me a 'distinguished gentleman'."

"Definitely hideous. I shall have her expelled from these surroundings immediately. Or should I have her beheaded?"

"Now you're mocking me."

"No, Rupert, I most definitely am not. But this is who I am and this is where I live and work."

"You're saying I'll just have to put up with it?"

"I do hope it'll be more than mere toleration. Jo and the rest do care about me as they did Andrew. I'm certain they'll come to love you once they get to know you ... if you'll just loosen up a bit."

"You may need to persuade me on that point."

"I'd love to, but first I'm feeding you dinner. There's stuffed roast pork, parsnips and creamed celery. A full-bodied Chardonnay. Not to mention the dessert you've brought."

"Davies, I swear I don't know what I'll do. Except to have all my suits let out."

"Don't worry, love. You'll work it all off after dinner." And he rose off the lap that had begun to show signs of specific interest of a non-culinary variety. Walking towards the kitchen, he glanced back and said, "Coming?"

"You bloody well know I am."

* * * * *  
Later that night, in bed, Giles brought up the topic of the Gala and those unfortunate misplaced girls or their misplaced ponies. And was _persuaded_ some more by his lover that their attendance would bring much attention and funding to this most misunderstood cause.

* * * * *  
And nothing further was said about the _Magpies_ though, besides keeping a trim waistline from his after dinner _exercise_ routine, Giles did develop significantly more patience in dealing with members of the general populace. Magpies included.


	4. Daring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The New Year is upon our (presumably) happy couple. What signs of discontent has Giles been ignoring as he dares to push a societal envelope? And how will Davies react? What could possibly go wrong after mutual declarations of love as well as an exquisite evening of making love? How could a surprise Giles thought would have delighted Davies have ended in curses and rejection?

Rupert Giles smiled self-indulgently. His relationship with Davies was coming along so well. Although there were a few minor differences (one of them being that Davies had yet to meet any of his acquaintances), things were mostly favourable. And he was excited because of their plans for this weekend, plans of which Davies had no knowledge. They'd spent a quiet Christmas at home and had also attended the Magpies' chosen charity (he learned, to his chagrin, that there were no misplaced girls but that the funds went to corral wild ponies living on an island, moving them to the mainland temporarily to tend to their health and record the live births before returning them to the island). Giles noted that Davies had seemed a bit subdued, but dismissed it as overall tiredness due to the holidays. Still, the two of them as a couple had been very well received at the Gala, though had spent most of the evening squiring ladies of all ages around the dance floor. Giles sighed. If he never went to another dance....

Well, perhaps with one exception. But the dancing shoes would not be on his feet. He had instructed Davies to bring along his dinner jacket. Tomorrow they were attending a Royal Gala at which dancers from all over the world would be dazzling their audience. He believed that Davies would enjoy the performance on New Year's Eve. He knew that Davies thought that they would most likely be going out for a dinner with Champagne, but that would be tonight. And, for the first time, in Bath. They would have enough time to drive to London tomorrow for the performance, returning early on January 1st when the traffic would be light.

As he waited for Davies to arrive, Giles made sure that everything was in readiness. Fresh towels and robes in the bathroom; pillar candles in both bathroom and bedroom; a beautifully set table next to a fire lit in the bedroom; Champagne in a bucket and cold buffet spread on silver trays; everything set on his chest of drawers being used as a sideboard; and, what Davies was most obviously not expecting, Giles had visited the Chemist's and purchased his own supplies.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost time for Davies to call him. As the directions were complicated (and he lived on the outskirts of Bath), he'd asked Davies to give him a call when he reached the given coordinates. Just then, his phone rang. "Rupert Giles, here."

"Rupert, there, is too far away. I'd like Rupert, here, please."

Giles chuckled. "And you shall have him, soon. Is the white building on your left?"

"Yes, next to the library."

"Good. Make a left turn and then continue until you reach...." Giles interspersed his directions with banter, refusing to tell Davies what he had planned.

In less than fifteen minutes, the guest was at the front door. Davies was ushered in by Giles, divested of his coat, garment bag and overnight case. And kissed thoroughly. When he was released, Davies murmured against Giles's lips, "I hope I'm not too late for where we're going tonight."

"Not at all. In fact, I think we should start with a bath ... just the thing after your drive."

"You're sure we've the time."

"Positive."

As Giles led Davies up the stairs with their carved banister, Davies seemed a bit troubled, but did not say anything. He didn't want to spoil the surprises that Giles had in store for him.

Giles had kept the door to the bathroom closed to keep the room warm. As Davies entered the room, he was struck by the elegant opulence: a large marble bath, big enough for two, candles flickering and reflected by the large mirrors, a delicate mosaic tile on the floor as well as the walls, an airing cupboard with hangers for getting the wrinkles out, a plush rug next to the tub as well as large bath sheets and robes. Everything was in complementary shades of sand and pale green. It was decidedly _not_ a typical English bathroom.

Giles closed the door behind Davies and began undressing, hanging up each item of clothing. He toed off the sandals he'd been wearing, then turned back to observe Davies who had begun to disrobe, imitating Giles. When he'd removed his shoes and socks, Giles put shoe trees in the shoes and placed them on a rack at the bottom of the cupboard.

As both walked towards the tub, their images danced around them, one dark, the other fair but graying. Giles started the water and stepped into the tub. As he lay back against the end, he motioned for Davies to get in. When Davies had settled himself in, with his back against Giles's chest, he sighed. But not with contentment. Still, he wasn't going to do something to upset their New Year's Eve plans or tonight's.

Giles mistook the sigh for something else. Pouring some liquid soap onto a washcloth, he began to rub it over the surprisingly tense neck muscles which finally relaxed. Then he caressed both arms, finally letting his fingertips trail down to the nest of dark hair and the cock that was bobbing in the water. He knew it was a waste of hot water, because neither of them needed a wash, but it was still fun. And Davies was perking up, not only his cock, but also his mood. Giles encouraged both by tugging on the foreskin, daring the cock to peek its way out. A few more minutes at this game had Davies squirming, enough to send water sloshing over the side of the tub.

"Stop," Davies panted, "You don't want to have me in this state if I'm expected to dress and go out to dinner."

"I didn't say we were going _out_ to dinner, did I?" Giles didn't stop his fondling.

"But ... my dinner jacket, everything else....?"

"Is for tomorrow evening, when we will be in London."

Davies twisted in his lover's arms to see his face. "We're going out ... tomorrow evening ... to London." He was echoing words that seemed foreign to him.

"Yes, it's my surprise for you."

Davies echoed the word weakly, "Surprise," wondering what other surprises were in store for him.

Giles gave him a little nudge with his knee. "Come on. Let's get out. I've laid out dinner in the bedroom."

Davies got out of the tub reluctantly, holding on to the edge of the tub. Perhaps he'd already fallen and was concussed. //No, from Rupert's explanations, that's his specialty.//

When Giles followed him out of the tub, he tossed him one of the long, thick robes. After they'd toweled off their legs and feet, they wandered barefoot into the bedroom adjacent to the bathroom.

Once again, Davies was struck by the elegant though unusual style. The furniture was Chippendale, the bed a large and inviting four poster, the curtains a sage raw silk, with the bed linens in cream and the same sage colour. He mused that the colour was similar to Rupert's eyes. He appeared to be dazed, surrounded by Rupert's presence. As he seemed to stagger back, he was steadied by Giles's strong arms.

"Here, you'd better sit down." Giles indicated the bed.

Davies sat and watched as Giles sauntered to his chest of drawers and deftly opened the bottle of Champagne. Poured them two flutes and carried them back to the table next to the bed. "To us and to the future."

They clinked glasses and Davies added, "Together."

The eyes of both men glittered as if they were under the influence of something narcotic ... or magical. But the only magic there was love, the love that they'd had for each other for months but had yet to express. Until tonight.

Davies felt his legs would support him finally, so followed Giles to collect some food. He helped himself to the cold asparagus soup to which he added a dollop of crème fraiche and osietra caviar, After that, he would help himself to salmon en gelee, a duck pate with orange zest, freshly baked rosemary loaf, ending with strawberries and chocolates or pear slices with Stilton. Or both, if he still had room.

He felt decadent. Of course, he'd eaten at lavish affairs before, but this was the first time that anyone had ever gone to such trouble ... personally ... to impress him. //Not that I needed any impressing.// Still, he was touched.

Giles, of course, while sitting next to his lover while dining, still acted as a solicitous host, refilling the flutes until the Champagne was finished. Then, he produced a bottle of Port and poured them both a small snifter. As they nibbled on their desserts and sipped the fine aged wine, Davies murmured, "You're spoiling me."

"You _do_ deserve it, you know."

"Remind me again, when I need a bromide in the middle of the night."

"Nonsense, this wasn't too much to eat or drink. Besides, I have other plans."

"More surprises?"

"Mmm. I've been shopping. Laid in some supplies, myself."

Davies's eyes grew wide. 'Supplies' was now a universal euphemism for condoms and the like. He gulped and asked in a small voice, "Tonight?"

"Well, I thought we'd start small tonight. You do trust me?"

The reply was immediate. "Always."

Giles smiled. He felt such passion, yet such comfort with this man and he'd never thought the two could coexist. But, with Davies, they did.

"Here, let me take that glass. And let's get that robe off. Now, if you would lie face down. And, eyes closed, please. Don't want to spoil the surprise."

Davies did as requested; he couldn't believe he was being so pliant. But, then, this was Giles. As he lay on the bed, he tried to quell the frisson of fear, of excitement, that he would be taken ... tonight. Not that he didn't want it. But he knew it was much more than just his body that he was about to give Rupert; it was his soul.

Giles had seen the slight tremors flitting over Davies's body as he returned with an ornate brass chest. He removed two objects from it and moved between his lover's legs.

Davies gasped as he felt the whispered glide of two fur mitts along his back and legs, then his arms, finally returning to begin at his feet and ending at his inner thighs. Then the mitts were removed and Giles quietly removed a bottle. However, the snap of a cap alerted Davies, so he was prepared when the warmed oil was spread over his butt cheeks in strong circles. Any tension that had been there had melted from the heat of the erotic massage. But he tensed again slightly when he heard a foil package being ripped open. //So soon! But I'm not ready yet.//

Giles moved up his body to soothe him, murmuring nonsense sounds until he calmed again. And then ... then he entered him.

With one finger, encased in the condom.

Struck by the amazing gentleness of the invasion, Davies reared up and swiveled his head to look at Giles.

"Shh. It's all right. I told you we'd be starting with small steps. When it comes to you, I have all the time ... and patience in the world. Only for you, my love."

Davies had tears in his eyes as he bent down to kiss the hand that was wrapped around his shoulder. And, then, he willingly surrendered himself. To Giles. To the exquisite sensations. To love.

Giles proceeded to make tiny circles with the one finger, then slipped a second finger into the condom, stretching Davies ever so gently, stimulating him thoroughly.

Davies was in such bliss that he didn't realize Giles had withdrawn his fingers until he felt the application of something larger than a condom sliding over his balls and covering his anus. Before he had a chance to ask what Rupert was doing, he felt something ... hotter. He groaned as he realized that Giles had inserted his tongue in his hole and was licking him, albeit through a protective piece of latex, but he felt the wetness and the intense heat from the intimate closeness of Rupert's face and his panting breath, and the kisses he was engraving onto his willing flesh. He could not believe what this man was doing to him. For the first time in his life. Because he ... and Andrew ... had never done this. They hadn't realized that there were supplies one could obtain just for this. In an era of cautious protection, they'd been ignorant babes.

He sank further into the spiraling sensations that made his nerve endings sing. It was almost too much. //No, it _is_ too much.//

"Rupert."

Giles froze. He wasn't expecting to hear the voice with a slight edge. "Yes, love?"

"I love what you're doing, but right now it's too much. Could you please just hold me?"

Giles lifted his head and moved his body over. Removing the latex, tossing it into a bin next to the bed, then wiping off any excess oil with a small towel, Giles covered the body of his lover and pulled the covers over them. The room was dark enough with the candles having burnt themselves out so they would fall asleep.

As Giles lay over the languid form beneath him, he sucked his lover's earlobe and then kissed it. For his troubles, he received a murmured, "Stop that, you're incorrigible."

"I can't help myself around you."

"Well, you'll have to force yourself."

"Alright, anything for you."

"Rupert?"

"Yes, love?"

"I love you."

Giles whispered the three words back, not realizing that his lover had already slipped into sleep. And, then, he too slept.

* * * * *

The next morning, both of them woke within minutes of each other. It was actually sunny outside. A little cold, but bearable, though the fire had long gone out. Giles smiled at Davies who returned the affectionate look with a kiss.

"Love, if you can manage it, we can warm up with a hot shower."

"Are you going to surprise me in there as well, Rupert?"

Giles pretended to ponder the question. "No, I think I'll save the next surprise for tonight."

* * * * *

As they drove into the city, both quite dashing in their fitted dinner jackets, Davies glanced over at Rupert. "I don't know what else you have planned for me but, if it's anything like what you've already done, I may not recover."

"Oh, I think you'll stay on your toes. Don't worry."

"Alright, but only because it's you. Rupert, you do know that I love you."

"Yes, you whispered it last night. And I love you."

"Good. Because I can't imagine my life without you in it, Rupert. You've given me new hope. And, even though work is a decent enough distraction, I need someone to live for, to love again."

"You have me now, Davies. Now ... and forever."

"So, shall we go on to the next surprise you've prepared for me?"

"Let's."

* * * * *

The drive back from London in the early hours of a frosty first day of January was intolerable. It seemed colder in the car than outside. Davies had refused to speak, staring in sullen silence at the road ahead, even though the traffic was light and the streets clear.

Giles didn't know what to think. He thought he'd arranged a magnificent surprise for his lover. First of all, two excellent seats for the Ballet Gala. And, then, the best part or what he thought Davies should have considered the best part. Her Majesty had, of course, been present and, during intermission, hosted a small reception in a private room at which there had not been more than 50 guests. There had been drinks and pastries served. And, the opportunity to pay their respects to the Queen. As Giles led a slightly stunned Davies towards her Majesty's chair, they observed a footman looking at a card and bending to whisper in the Queen's ear. Her Majesty waved him off and greeted Giles warmly. "Mr. Giles, we're pleased you were able to attend this evening's performance."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I am a great believer in the Arts."

"Of course. And I see you brought a..." - there was the slightest hesitation - "companion with you."

"Yes, Ma'am. May I present Mr. Davies."

Davies had the presence to bow and exchange some polite conversation with the Queen before they moved on so that others could be greeted by her. Intermission was nearly over, so Giles did not have a chance to examine the behaviour of his lover closely. But, when the Gala had ended, Davies was tight-lipped from the moment they left the theatre.

Giles tried. "Love, please tell me what's wrong. Did I do something to offend you?" When his overture was greeted by silence, he gave up. He was not going to pester the man. Obviously something was bothering him and perhaps he would tell him once they were abed.

Davies navigated the tricky route from Bath to Rupert's place. He stopped the car but did not turn off the ignition.

Giles stared at him, startled, confused. "Davies, love?"

He was utterly shocked by the cold response. "Get out."

"What? Davies, be reasonable. You need to get some sleep."

"I'll sleep when I get home to my own bed. I'll not be sleeping with the likes of you."

"But, Davies, I'm confused. What did I do that's causing you so much distress?"

Davies finally turned off the ignition. But he made no move to leave the car or to turn to Giles. "Are you taking me for granted so much that you haven't noticed that I've been bothered for the past few weeks?"

"I knew you were bothered, but I didn't want to pry. I thought it was from work."

Davies spit out the next word. "No. It was you. And your behaviour. Am I worth so little to you that you paraded me before the Queen tonight like Elton fucking John's boyfriend, David what's-his-name?"

Giles was shocked. Davies never swore. "But, but ... I thought you would be pleased."

"Tell me, was I pleased when you couldn't visit three weeks ago because you had an event in London?"

"But, Davies, I told you that was work related."

"Oh, and I suppose there were no spouses or _companions_ in attendance?"

"Yes, but...."

"Don't bother with your excuses. It's amazing that you can introduce me to the Queen as what – your plaything – but you're too ashamed to introduce me to your colleagues and friends. By the looks of the Queen's welcome to you, even she knows who you are and what the hell you do for a living. Which is enough to keep you in a bloody estate and not the flat you always talked about." Davies had run out of breath.

Giles reached out with a hand, but Davies shrank back towards the door. "Don't even think of it."

"Davies, I'm sorry I haven't told you, but it's complicated."

"Complicated, right. And, of course, you're the only one in the thing for whom it's so fucking complicated. Well, why don't you just get out of my car and go uncomplicate yourself."

The vehemence in his angry lover's voice stunned Giles. And the course language, common idioms. But what else could he do. In a calm voice that was entirely synthesized, he said, "Alright, Davies. I'll get out. But, please drive carefully."

Giles did not wait for a reply, nor had he expected one.

But he walked into a cold and lonely house in which there was a bed he could not contemplate climbing into. So, he went directly to the lounge and took out the decanter of Scotch.

And stared into its deceptive amber glow, wondering how the hell he was going to patch things up with Davies. If he even could.

The misery in his eyes was thrown back at him by the crystal facets of the decanter, cold and precise.


	5. Intervening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several weeks after that disastrous New Year's Eve, Giles is still experiencing bleak despair. He doubts his own instincts as a man and Watcher. Luckily, the Magpies drop in unannounced to prod him to try to resolve the huge misunderstanding in his relationship with Davies. Giles has no defences against their combined forces.

Rupert Giles was in a foul mood. Had been since January 1st.

When he'd returned to work at Council HQ after the holidays, everybody was too stunned by his appearance and demeanor to say anything. Most of them were a little fatigued from too much partying, but they were otherwise happy and optimistic about the future – and that was generally the purpose of celebrating a new year.

But, after a few nights without sleep, though luckily without alcohol, Giles was morose and irritable, snapping at anybody within hearing range. But nobody dared to criticize him, else they be the target of the famous glare. And, as he had nobody to turn to and would have never approached anyone junior (the protocol of the chair prohibiting such a demeaning role reversal), he was lost and didn't know how he would find his way out.

Giles managed to sit through meetings, strategy and training sessions, but his brain was not functioning at peak efficiency. Whispers began first among the Sunnydale survivors who had accompanied him back to England. But what could they do, most of them decades younger? So, every day Giles dragged himself off to work with dark circles under his eyes, looking marginally presentable only by dint of a shower and a change of clothes. And every evening he returned to his lonely house and stayed up all night, sitting in the lounge, staring at the decanter of Scotch. He had not entered the bedroom once, so the evidence of what he thought had been undying love had not been disturbed.

He had, at least, the sense not to take even one drink, but the whiskey was an old companion even if he didn't imbibe. He stared at it. It stared back at him, only mocking him with its reflection of him; but it made no sound. And he could always close his eyes against the harsh truth it revealed.

As he sat and stared at the whiskey, he tried to remember and evaluate every nuance of his relationship with Davies. Had he acted a pompous fool, trying to impress Davies with the Royal Gala? Was he ashamed that his financial circumstances appeared to be more secure? Did he fear that Davies would be jealous? Of what? Nice lodgings and a secure salary?

Or was this something that was more illusory? Was this about the fact that he, Rupert Giles, didn't know the first thing about being in a loving relationship with an equal? Did he have the first clue on how to carry on a conversation, to impart information, to request clarification, to engender negotiations to the satisfaction of both parties? //Bloody Hell, it sounds more like a trade union meeting.// He hadn't expected that falling in love would be such hard work.

He became wistful and thought of his late mother. //Mum, however did you do it for all these years, putting up with Father?// But he knew she'd been a strong person in her own right and had stood up to his father, though quietly and tactfully.

//Why was I such a fool for so many years? Studying to be a Watcher, but not learning anything about being a Man?// He wished she were here now, if not to encourage him, then to scold him to go and set things right between him and Davies. He didn't think she'd even bat an eye at the gender of his beloved. Because, by then, she trusted his judgment. Which he had just bollixed in a truly juvenile manner.

Had he, in fact, been so overwhelmed by the possibility of being labeled gay (or even if he were to politely issue the corrected term, bisexual) by people who barely knew him, that he had forgotten he was trying to forge a life-long union with Davies and had, in words, if not in deed, married the man on the eve of a new year? He snorted, disgusted with himself. //Shows how much I value the vow of always and forever?//

As he was continuing his investigation into his insensitivity, he was struck with one source of information he had ignored until now. Had his ego been so inflated that he had neglected to consult the reference books of his profession, the Watchers' Diaries? He groaned, realizing that he'd been a fool. So consumed by the gay (or bisexual) label, he had ignored that thousands of Watchers had found spouses from outside of the established circles, had sworn them successfully to secrecy and had maintained the semblance of happy, normal marriages. The example of his own father was before him. When his parents had met, his mother had not known anything about vampires or demons and would have dismissed the entire idea as “Stuff and nonsense” with a genteel giggle. Yet his father had convinced her that these extranatural creatures existed and that he was one of the generals in the fight for good. His mother had believed, his mother had accepted, and his mother had supported his stubborn and bullheaded father for the remainder of her life.

He dropped his head into his hands. //Perhaps I am a fool, even more stubborn than my father?// Had he really expected Davies to understand and accept all of his eccentricities and his unexplained fears? No wonder the man had finally pushed him away. Still, even recognizing his faults did not ease his distress. He knew he had behaved badly, but how was he going to be able to convince Davies of his sincerity if Davies refused to see him or even answer his phone. Of course Giles had left brief sincere messages, saying that he was sorry, but his overtures were greeted by silence.

The situation continued for a fortnight; while Giles now knew partially what had gone wrong, he still didn't know how to fix things. So he was still moody when intervention arrived on a Saturday morning with persistent knocking on his door.

Giles was startled, as his house was set back on the property, partially concealed by the barn. But, curious, he flung the door open. And perceived three very determined-looking women on his front step. "Ladies ... I ... um ... what brings you into town?" Then suspicion clouded his eyes. "Did Davies put you up to this?"

"Good morning, Mr. Giles, and let's dispense with the 'ladies'." That was Jo speaking.

El was next. "Mr. Davies has no idea that we're here."

Mil, a bit more shy than her forthright neighbours, contributed, "We just wanted to help, as we've seen the state he's in. We don't like to see him miserable, just as he'd found someone to love again." 

Explanations finished, the three women stared at Giles with determination in their eyes. They were here to do a job and he was not going to stand in their way. "So," it was Jo now, "Mr. Giles, will we be standing on your doorstep all day or will you invite us in?"

For a brief moment, Giles wished that these women had been vampires and that he could have witnessed them bouncing off an invisible barrier. "Alright. I suppose I can't stop you."

It wasn't gracious, but it was enough. The three women swept in, carrying all sorts of bags with them.

El sniffed around and her nose twitched. The place had not been aired out and was full of dust. And despair. They hoped that by eliminating the first problem the second would be diminished.

El turned to Giles. "You have horses here, Mr. Giles?"

He started, wondering why she would ask him a question like that. "Please, first of all, if you're to be guests in my home, then please call me Rupert. Or even Giles. And, yes, I do ride."

Jo took up the reins. "Fine, please take your horse out for a long ramble. You need to be astride a mount; don't want to be out of practice."

Giles couldn't believe what Jo had just said. Had she intimated that ... no, she couldn't be _that_ bold. And, yet, she had a level look in her eyes, one that would not accept opposition. "But, if I go out, I'll be leaving you in here."

It was El's turn. "Please, Rupert, go for a ride. Get some fresh air. In the meantime, we'll give this place a going over. I can see by the looks of things that you've been holed up in this lounge. Not getting much sleep."

Giles's eyes filled with horror. //Dear Lord, they can't be intending to go into the bedroom!// "No, please, you can't go in there. I haven't touched anything since the 31st."

Back to Jo's no-nonsense response. "All the more reason for us to give it a proper cleaning so that you'll be sleeping in your own bed again."

The horror was battling with anguish in Giles's eyes. "But, it's not decent, it's in a shameful state. I can't expose you to...." His voice trailed off. What was he going to say, "His lovenest?"

Mil surprised him with her gentle, comforting voice. "Rupert, between the three of us, we've birthed and raised eight children, 5 of them boys. Do you think there's going to be anything there that will shock us or make us think any less of you as a gentleman? Now, please, go out for a ride and, when you return, we'll have a hearty meal ready for you."

Jo added in a voice that felt as if she should have her hands on her hips. "And, then ... we're going to find a way to get the two of you stubborn men back together."

Shaking his head in utter confusion, Giles walked out of the house, heading for the barn. Perhaps he'd find his horse to be more logical. He hoped so. He didn't know where he'd landed or what would happen to him next. With the Magpies around, anything was possible.


	6. Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not only did the intervention of the Magpies lift Giles's spirits, he is hopeful that - with their help on his behalf - he can fix the cracks (more like wide chasms) in his relationship with Davies. But, to do that, he'll have to introduce elements of his personal life to his professional role. And vice-versa.

Rupert Giles was in a hopeful mood. Had been ever since the Magpies had swooped down and made him realize that he should try to patch things up with Davies.

At least he was back to sleeping in his own bed. And, yes, it was a painful reminder that he and Davies had been apart for more than three weeks by now. They could have been intensifying the physical aspects of their relationship, losing themselves in the romantic afterglow of simply being with one another as they realized what they meant to each other, as well as doing mundane things together. Spending precious time with his lover had been so fulfilling. Even when shopping for provisions, something he normally hated to do by himself.

It was no wonder that he'd become so gaunt, especially in his face. So, when the Magpies had arrived with their myriad bags, he'd eaten his first proper meal since the 31st. They had braised lamb shoulder chops and simmered them in a sauce of onions, garlic, carrots and red wine. It was a strong dish and something he needed to remind him that he had an appetite. Surprisingly, it was El who admitted to providing the recipe. She loved to read cookbooks and, usually, had nobody to cook for if the menu was not typical British fare. When she had removed the cover from his soup plate, she was gratified to see Giles close his eyes and take a deep breath, like a man who had just discovered his sense of smell. El had rounded out the meal with a board of bread and cheese and more red wine to wash everything down. And aid in digestion.

When Giles had returned from his ride, his hair boyishly mussed by the breeze, his face shining from the exertion and renewed enthusiasm (for he dearly loved to ride), the Magpies sent him up to bathe and change for dinner. It wasn't too early to begin bringing the man back up to proper standards. And, as El had taken charge of the kitchen, it was Jo and Mil who had stripped the bed, laundered the linens and then, apparently, stuffed the clean but unfortunate sheets at the back of the cupboard. They had remade the bed, plumped up the pillows, aired out the room and even moved a couple of incidental pieces of furniture – anything to make the return to the bedroom less painful for Giles.

So, when Giles had reappeared in the dining room for dinner, clean, shaved, and dressed in a gray shirt, forest green sweater and charcoal trousers as well as shoes and socks, he was greeted by the simple but fragrant stew and the welcome vision of his personal angels who had also freshened up. That cheered him up considerably, as it showed him they'd gone to the trouble just for him.

He enjoyed dinner immensely, not only the food and wine, but also the excellent company. He realized that the Magpies probably had felt unappreciated when their children had grown up and it was only when they came to know Davies that they felt there was someone on whom they could lavish some maternal attention and affection, even though they were only about 10 years older. When El had produced a custard and fruit dessert, Giles protested, saying that he was utterly stuffed. But they would have none of his excuses and insisted that he have at least a few spoons of it. The man needed some fattening up, if only for nutritional reasons.

During dessert, Giles had begun explaining the soul-searching he had done and the conclusions he'd reached – as well as the depressed state in which he'd been floundering. The Magpies tut-tutted and agreed, in good-natured banter, that he had been a fool, but it wasn't too late to mend his ways. Without giving away the specific nature of his job or of the Council's nature, he told them what he intended to do.

Surprisingly, they agreed with his plan. He had to lay the foundation so that, when Davies finally met his colleagues and friends, he would feel as welcome as if he'd known everyone for years. Giles refused to consider the possible risks of the steps he was going to take, of revealing his private life and secrets, one to his professional circle – the other to Davies. But he had to trust in his own improving judgment (that had been so flawed lately) and in Davies's enduring love for him. Or so the Magpies kept reassuring him.

They left him that evening in improved spirits. He knew that they would be paying a visit to Davies the next day to begin their covert operation of subtle indoctrination. They would pester him gently so that he, too, would search his soul to learn if he'd been too impulsive and impatient to give Giles the chance to explain things and, he hoped, redeem himself.

Giles slept well, knowing that the situation was not as hopeless as he'd feared. He felt a renewed sense of purpose for his Council job as well and knew he would go to work in the morning a new man. A man about to strip the veneer of secrecy from his person. All for the love of another man.


	7. Educating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are things on the mend yet? Have the Magpies swung into action? See Giles take his life back, contravening thousands of years of tradition at the same time.

Rupert Giles did not have the time to wonder how the Magpies were faring with their part of the plan. Although he hoped they would be able to get through to Davies so that he would give him another chance, he had a much higher purpose, one which necessitated that he come out //Oh, the delicious irony of that phrase// in favour of bringing the remaining antiquated vestiges of the old Council into not only a new century but also a new millennium. He could imagine Quentin rolling over in his grave. But Quentin could do that all he wanted, for he had been the instrument of much misery, all in the name of good.

By the end of the twentieth century there had been many radical changes in the way sexual orientation was considered by forward thinking people in nations that fostered enlightenment through science and reason rather than hatred and fear through ignorance and religious dogma.

Still, it was difficult for many ordinary citizens to move beyond their own upbringing, hearing the ugly words that contributed to feelings of loathing - or self-loathing if they themselves didn't fall into the _correct_ sexual identity. However, with the press for ordinary human rights in several European countries as well as the splendid example of Canada, people who were not heterosexual were able to live and work, without the fear of losing their work, housing or lives. Though it wasn't utopian, it was an auspicious start. Bringing marriage or civil unions to the table was the next logical step.

So, it wasn't difficult for Giles to realize that his own process of understanding himself and dealing with it had to lead to a reevaluation of the way the old Council had been managed and what changes would have to be made. Certainly Kennedy had not been the first lesbian Slayer but she had been open about her sexuality. In the past, with the extreme control that Watchers had held over their Slayers, their charges had no sexuality to speak of as they were usually killed off in their teens. Of course a few of them had been Called after they had matured, some of them having already given birth. Even these women soon found that they no longer had much of an outside identity, let alone a personal or sexual life. //I suppose I should thank Buffy for her role in redefining a Slayer as more than a mere tool against the forces of Evil.// He smiled wryly. Buffy would surely find a way to get her digs in at his expense when she learned of his relationship. After all, wasn't Council business much more important than going on a date?

And, just as Slayers were forced to live within the strictures of the Council's rules, Watchers were also bound by them. Whether there had ever been any gay or bisexual Watchers was irrelevant. For the sake of providing a normal-seeming environment in which to raise a Slayer who was typically removed from her parents' care, Watchers were expected to marry wisely – and contribute to the façade that they were part of an established family unit and the Slayer was their daughter or, if they were too old, then a young niece or other relative.

But, now, Watchers could be single and 'adopt' a child; or they could be in a same-sex relationship and adopt. As long as the Council was still able to validate the familial status through documentation //Oh, alright, forgeries then//, it was no longer necessary to present Watchers and Slayers in traditional nuclear families.

Even though the bombing of the old Council's HQ had been tragic and many wonderful people had lost their lives, Giles thought that he now had the perfect opportunity to reshape the Council, to adapt to more modern views of life and to adopt new protocols. But, to do this, he had to reevaluate every aspect of Council operations. First and most important would be the workshops on sensitivity of, and respect for, different sexual orientations and gender identities. He wondered, curious for a moment, if some Slayers had thought they should have been born male, due to their unusual physical strength, but unable to express that strength in many more traditional cultures.

Well, as he was in charge now, he was about to change everything in the Council. The workshops were scheduled to begin next week. They would be video-conferenced to Watchers and Slayers who were currently stationed outside of the U.K. Nobody would be exempt from participating in them. And nobody would be permitted to mistreat any Slayer or Watcher based on their own prejudices. If they still harboured these prejudices afterwards and, by their words and deeds, were slanderous, then they would be removed from the Council. There would be no appeal. They had been given sufficient warning.

While the workshops were continuing in small groups, Giles intended to seek out the counsel of those he had once called 'children' but whom he treasured as dear friends. They would be the first to know (although he was sure that Willow had entertained her suspicions already) that he was admitting to being bisexual and that he was in a relationship with a man. He anticipated some nervous reactions, could imagine Xander's litany ("No, no, no, a million worlds of no"), Willow's hands on her hips as she would demand to know just how long he'd known, Buffy's wide eyes and a very real urge to say "Ew" and, finally, Dawn's squeal of approval followed by a hug and one word, "Cool."

Another pressing issue was the old Council's tendency to act as if the British Empire were still the most powerful force on earth. He shuddered when he thought of the arrival of Wesley Wyndam-Prig and hoped that his own had not merited similar disdain of pompousness and moral rectitude, all wrapped up in tweed.

Giles knew he had much to do and little time. He needed to have set the foundation of structural evolution before he added the personal elements. And he had to hurry, as every day that he was estranged from Davies was another brick in the wall that had grown between them. But he hoped that his actions would give Davies the inner strength and permission to let the wall dissolve naturally, rather than seeing Giles trying to bulldoze through the bricks because of an ill-conceived plan or lack of patience in implementing it.

Giles hoped that the Magpies would work their magic on Davies //Once again, sadly, in his case// as they had on him. They were determined, they were imaginative, they were fearless.

Davies didn't stand a chance.

With that comforting thought in his mind, Giles resumed his analysis of other old Council methods that did not deserve to be associated with his stewardship. The legacy he left behind. Or the concept that he deserved to have a private life. He thought once again of Davies and how Davies's love had changed him. It was time to return the favour.


	8. Improvising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles has done something revolutionary in order to regain the trust of the man he loves. How are the Magpies using their powers of persuasion and imagination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The events of 9/11 are mentioned as a plot device. No disrespect or insensitivity is intended to victims of terrorists from that day and more recent tragedies.

Rupert Giles was correct in many things and this, certainly, was no exception. Against the whirlwind that was the Magpies, Davies had not stood a chance.

As they had more than three years ago, they had resumed visiting Davies each day with a home-cooked meal and light gossip. That was all they spoke of before their visit to see Giles in Bath.

Since that day, they had seized the opportunity to discuss the many horrifying, completely and utterly unpardonable faults of one Mr. Rupert Giles. At first they had commiserated with Davies, adding "Tut-tut" or "Oh my goodness" where required. But, gradually, they began to draw Davies out, making him ponder new questions, as they made him assess the situation with fresh eyes.

Mil was the avid spy/thriller reader. As none of them knew _actually_ what line of work Giles was in – and decided it wasn't really necessary for them to know – they improvised a profession for Giles that would still be in keeping with his being acquainted with the Queen – but requiring the highest level of security. And, as they were guessing, it wasn't as if they were being deceitful to Davies.

So Mil combined the fantastic adventures she was fond of reading with the modern horrors of terrorism to create an identity for Giles. As Britain had allied – and aligned itself – with its former colony of the USA after the terrifying – and hitherto unimaginable – plane crashes and explosions over American soil on that fateful and grimly-associated day, the entire world had been placed on high alert, realizing that terrorists could ... and did ... strike in unlikely places.

Mil suggested that they endow Giles with the governance of MI5's most recent development, a covert organization that did not even have its offices on the premises of Thames House so that, when Davies finally did go to London, he would be taken to an entirely separate location. They even decided to hint that Giles was in line to be knighted for services to his country.

They didn't know how many days they would have to carry out their mission but hoped – as did Giles – that Davies would listen to reason. Davies was listening, but not accepting what he heard. Sitting across from the Magpies who were perched on his couch, he felt as if he were being peppered with questions. So he became defensive. "He's obviously ashamed of me."

Jo had that hands-on-hips look on her face. "Davies, you're acting like an immature pup. If he were so ashamed of you, then why did he show you off with pride and introduce you to the Queen? Or are you more upset because Her Majesty recognized him and you've always wanted to be presented to the Royal Family on your own merit? No, don't interrupt, I'm not finished with you yet. And you're still going on about his deception, of the estate in Bath. Heavens, lad, can you not see that anyone of his means would have to be circumspect and not announce from the town square that he was well off. Especially when the object of his affection," she glared at him for emphasis, "is another man."

"But, Jo, it was Christmastime and I was hurt. I felt I'd been rejected by the man I loved."

"Davies, do you think he didn't have any other obligations he _had_ to handle and that perhaps he wasn't enjoying himself as much as you fear he was?"

"Then why couldn't he tell me?"

Jo shook her head at him as El and Mil looked at him sadly.

Then Mil continued like the second Fate spinning her web. "Perhaps he couldn't tell you. Perhaps he was sworn to keep an oath of secrecy."

"Mil, you're having me on. Is this one of those thrillers you're always reading?"

"Have some manners, Davies. I'm deadly serious because the enemy is."

He scoffed. "What enemy?"

"The one that has tried to destroy our way of life, taking thousands of innocent lives in its wake. I'm talking about terrorists, Davies. 9/11 wasn't all that long ago; have you become complacent so soon?"

"You're not suggesting..."

"I most certainly am. Look at the evidence so far. The Queen either knows him or knows _of_ him. As Her Majesty meets regularly with the Prime Minister, it's not too outrageous for her to be aware of his role. And, then, the reason why he hasn't invited you to functions, even if they seem to be polite society events. He loves you and he wants to keep you from harm's way. Have you considered that he would probably have to ask permission to introduce you to the others? Even going before the head of MI5? This is serious business and we're convinced that Rupert is doing his bit for God and Country. The last thing he needs is to see you having a tantrum or putting yourself at risk."

"Could he really be a secret agent?"

Mil's nod was firm. "Definitely."

Davies let his body fall limp, held up only by the chair's arms. "I've been such a fool. Accused him of being insensitive. Will he ever forgive me?"

El had been sitting with her friends, not contributing to much of the story-building. So, with the definitive action of the third Fate, she replied, "Yes, only because he's as stubborn as you are. I swear I've never known a couple more suited. For a life of bickering perhaps, but always with love. It'll be a noisy house, for sure. Now, Davies, are you going to accept our advice?"

He no longer lazed in his chair, having perked up from the possibility that the relationship could be revived. "Yes. And I apologize for having doubted your judgment or intuition."

"Don't be thanking me yet. Jo, Mil and I have our work cut out for us. But we're going to give Rupert a call and insist that he must introduce you to at least one acquaintance of his, as far away from work, if necessary. Will that be a comfort to you?"

Davies hugged her. She was like the wise young aunt he'd never had. They all were. And Jo had also hinted that she wouldn't be surprised if he were knighted for his exemplary service. That possibility stunned him - and it wasn't from a perspective of jealousy, but of admiration.

When they left amidst calls of "Good luck" from him, he went back into the house, feeling much lighter. And optimistic. Although it was up to Giles to _produce_ as it were.

As he sat, he wondered if Giles could really be a spy, a secret agent? //My God, I don't doubt the man's been tortured from the looks of his scars. It all makes sense now.// Why Giles was secretive, troubled by his physical appearance.

Later that evening Davies had the first decent night's sleep in months. He dreamed about Giles and the mysteries that would be uncovered soon. And hoped that he was man enough to handle whatever the news was.


	9. Discerning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else must Giles do before reconciling with Davies? How does an extraordinary shakeup of procedures and sensitivity training at HQ sound?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World War II and fallout real. Albigensians real. Village in Southern France totally my construct. All names chosen randomly.

Rupert Giles was correct in many things and this, certainly, was no exception. Against the whirlwind that was the Magpies, Davies had not stood a chance. When they had called Giles, taking turns talking on one phone, he'd learned just how far their imaginations could go.

He couldn't believe they had concocted a fantastic story and turned him into a cinematic hero, though he was still afraid of what Davies would think when he really found out the truth. But Giles didn't have the luxury of entertaining idle thoughts. As the Magpies had primed Davies and were now solidifying a story fraught with love amidst the danger, he hoped that Davies would accept the truth and love him for who he really was.

Before that, there was much to do. Although the non-discrimination workshops on sexual orientation had gone well ... generally ... there were specific instances of trouble brewing. Before he introduced Davies into the recipe, he had to eliminate the fermented elements. Luckily, he'd encountered no problems with the Watchers. Whether the destruction of HQ and the loss of lives of so many of their colleagues was responsible, he didn't care. Ultimately, all that mattered was that _his_ Council be open to improved training, enlightened teaching and benevolent stewardship of the Slayers and their lives.

Giles felt relieved that he hadn't mentioned the relationship or his orientation to anyone. He'd wanted to receive honest and quick feedback without the potential conflict of interest. So, without knowing that the Chairman was now the perceived _enemy_ , the three Slayers who were opposed to a normalization of different sexual orientations spoke to him privately, with their Watchers present, acting as interpreters, if necessary.

The first was a pale girl from Poland, Jadwiga, 15. Through her Watcher, Helena Marjanowska, Jadwiga said that her beliefs would not permit her to mix openly with people who, she felt, were in league with Satan. When Helena heard and translated the Polish word for Satan, Giles could see her shudder, with anguish painted on her face. It was no wonder. He imagined how Jadwiga would react if she knew that her 70-year old Watcher had been brutalized by those who had truly been in league with the Devil and her younger, gay brother, Tadek Marjanowski, had been murdered by them at Auschwitz.

The second was a dark-haired woman from France, Sophie, 22. She spoke on her own in French and Giles's French was polished enough to grasp the unusual concept she was describing. Her disagreement was less religious, more societal or anthropological. In her village, all girls were married off by the age of twenty-five. If any woman was unmarried after that age, an arranged marriage was the only solution. So, obviously, if a woman didn't want to be stuck with a man she found repulsive, she made her own match. Within the isolated village of her youth in Southern France, this practice had been in place for at least 800 years, ensuring that every able bodied and able minded person married and reproduced. In a closed system like theirs, there was no room for deviation. Those who couldn't conform to what was expected of them were first sterilized and then cast out of the village. Giles could barely imagine how barbaric this practice had been before the advent of modern medicine. He assumed that Sophie would not know what the provenance of the practice was and, himself, guessed that it could have been a desperate attempt to repudiate the Albigensian heresy. He could imagine how these villagers would do anything to prove that they were devout Catholics, marrying and reproducing according to God's will. Still, Giles was puzzled. Why had Sophie agreed to come to England if she already knew what her destiny was supposed to be? Perhaps, at 22, it was one of her last acts as an independent woman.

The third girl was an enigma. Suri, 18, was Indian although her parents had lived and worked in South Africa since before her birth. She'd had a cosmopolitan upbringing that seemed to not have left an imprint on her. Or had she merely rejected any of the excesses she had witnessed around her with sex and sexuality being the easiest target? She had simply said she didn't like it and didn't want to have anything to do with it. Giles saw how disappointed Xander looked to be losing one of _his_ girls. He wondered what Suri would think of Willow, of himself, or of some of the others who he knew were gay or bi. With their secrets intact, they were loved, respected, followed. With the veneer stripped off, they were feared, misunderstood, loathed. Well, it was better to know ... and safer, as well. He could not imagine leaving the business of fighting evil to those who would be distracted by anything they did not personally approve of.

Now that the interviews were over, Giles had to consider what he was going to do with the girls who had no desire to be a part of the team. He'd already discussed this with the Coven. And with Willow, as it was her work that had turned all of the Potentials into full-fledged Slayers. After not too much discussion (he hadn't really anticipated any opposition), they decided that the powers of the girls would be bound; they would no longer have the physical strength of a Slayer. They would also not attract vampires who had an uncanny ability to recognize Slayers. The other thing, which he absolutely would not permit Willow to perform, was a mild forgetting spell. The Slayers would not really remember where they'd been and, if asked, would reply that they'd had a pleasant vacation abroad.

At the end of the week, the three were gone and there was a renewed spirit of purpose at HQ. Only those who wanted to be there (or who understood that the fight against evil shouldn't have room for personal bias) remained.

Now, with the easy part behind him – and Giles groaned when he considered this – it was time for him to face his friends first and then to reveal his own secret within the organization ... as discreetly as possible. He was doing all he could to prepare the way for Davies to reenter his life. He missed the man and, even though he had no guarantee that Davies would accept him back despite the certainty of the Magpies, he had to try.


	10. Revealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles finally reveals his secret to the Scoobies. How will they react? Well, there's some fainting, some pouting. And pizza - of a kind - to make the news easier to swallow.

Rupert Giles was preparing to bare his soul before his closest friends. Despite their age difference, he felt closer to the Scoobies, more so since the fall of Sunnydale. Perhaps it was because they had all changed, matured, and he was no exception. He was not the same man who would have condemned Spike to torture and annihilation.

Dear Willow was finally realizing that she had a problem with magic and working hard every day to control it lest it control her.

Xander was his organization's right-hand man, flying to and from Africa every few weeks. Giles knew he would eventually slow down, no longer feeling he needed to be one step ahead of impending doom. After all, there was no aircraft that could go faster than an apocalypse. In the meantime, Xander loved his Slayers with a passion. Every time he found one and brought her to England, he beamed like a proud father, an _impossibly_ young father, but still proud.

Dawn was no longer the awkward teenager, but a self-assured, intelligent young woman who insisted on completing all of the classes the Slayers took. Even if she didn't have Slayer strength, she did possess Slayer self-awareness, perhaps a legacy of sharing genetic material with her sister.

And Buffy, dear, dear Buffy. He'd seen her fly off to Rome, flashing her self-indulgent behaviour, taking up with the Immortal who, Giles thought, was ten times worse than Spike _and_ Angel put together. Still, he hadn't said a word, let her dance and play the night away ... for as many months as she needed. Then, when the Immortal's shallow nature finally bored her, she flew back to England, returning to a life she knew and understood. Even if she were no longer in danger, she was still a Slayer. And she wanted to be with her friends again, to be a part of things.

So Giles issued an invitation to them for the first Saturday in February. He intended to surprise them with a bit of nostalgia, a movie night reminiscent of Sunnydale. There would even be pizza though, as Xander would discover, home-made gourmet pizza. And snacks. Bags of crisps and pretzels. A few cases of soft drinks. Definitely a throwback to more innocent times.

He'd sent a car for them, wanting them to travel in comfort without worrying about driving all the way to Bath and back. Besides, he knew the whole driving on the wrong side of the road still had them confused. Their lives were precious to him and he wasn't about to risk them as an example of rash cost-cutting.

As they swept into the house with uninhibited clatter and rambunctiousness, his heart filled with joy. It had been too long since he'd felt this ... young. It felt good. It felt right. Giles turned to the driver, Philippa, one of his favourites, instructing her to make herself at home in the coachhouse. It was a large comfortable studio atop the garage that served as guest quarters. He knew his drivers could choose from several meals already prepared and wash them down with tea, coffee, juices or mineral water. There were chairs for lounging and a large collection of books or videos, dvds or cds for whiling away the hours. He didn't have to worry that Philippa would be bored while he entertained his friends.

As he helped them out of their coats and hats and mitts and scarves, he remarked that they must be finding the weather unique. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Any more layers, Giles, and I'm gonna look like the Michelin Man."

He smiled at her and she grinned back at him. It felt good to be back as part of the group. After he'd invited them to make themselves at home in the lounge, he excused himself to get them some hot drinks. He been simmering mulled cider and returned with a tray of mugs steaming with fragrant liquid.

As they sipped and began to relax, Giles waited for the inevitable questions. It didn't take long. "So," Buffy began, "how come the invite?"

"Well, Buffy, as we're together for the time being and Xander hasn't flown off again, I wanted us to take advantage of that. Besides, you're stuck in London with the other Slayers and I wanted to open my house to you."

Buffy's eyes widened. "Guys, am I missing something? Is there an apocalypse nobody told me about? Because Giles being all invity guy is of the weird. Nice," she flashed him a smile, "but weird."

"No, Buffy, no apocalypse ... nor any desire for one. But, as things have settled down, I thought it was time for me to start being with the people who mean the most in the world to me. If you didn't know it before, you are like family ... no, you _are_ my family."

He was stunned when Dawn rose from her chair and approached him, leaning down to give him a big hug. Her reaction still amazed him, because he'd expected she would always resent him for what he'd wanted to do, to sacrifice her a few years back. Sometimes he wished the monks had created a brother or sister for him, so that he could have experienced that feeling of love and protectiveness for someone younger. There were times he envied Buffy, despite the fact that she'd given her own life to protect her sister. These were mere children, yet they'd taught him ... taught him enough that he knew he would never again hide who he was ... what he was.

Giles could feel that the others were in the same huggy mood but knew he had to get dinner out of the oven. "Alright, you lot. We can return to the good feelings after dinner. But, now, who's up for pizza?"

"Pizza, did you say pizza?" Xander turned to Willow. "He did say pizza, right. Wills?"

"Yes, Xander, he did say pizza." Willow was always amused to see how a grown man with crucial responsibilities could still revert to acting like a kid when it came to certain types of food. She was almost afraid to see what Xander's reaction would have been if Giles had mentioned donuts.

Buffy returned the situation to a more adult level. "Can I help you with plates, Giles?"

"Certainly, Buffy. Your assistance is always welcome."

When they returned, Giles was bearing a tray on which there was a curiously decorated pizza. He had cut it carefully into 10 slices, 2 for each of them. However, only 80% of the pizza was covered in the traditional toppings they expected. The last two slices were for him, covered with chevre, caramelized onions and pieces of smoked chicken. As he didn't have to exist on take-away food, Giles now cooked things he liked. "The regular slices are for you, and the last two are for me. If you wish, you may try a bite of mine and, if you like it, I can pop another one in the oven." They merely looked at him and then down at the pizza and then back up at him. When had he ever shown such individuality? Then Buffy plopped the case of soft drinks down and they all grabbed one. Soon, any differences were swallowed up by the welcome feeling of belonging, of pretending that things didn't go "Boo" in the middle of the night. They talked, they laughed, they even tried the grown-up version of pizza. When they'd stuffed themselves thoroughly, Giles knew it was time to address them. When Dawn carried the plates into the kitchen, he called after her, "Just leave them be, Dawn. I hope you don't mind if we don't watch a movie. I've something I'd like to discuss with you."

Dawn hurried back, wondering what the mystery was. All eyes were on him. Giles gulped, knowing that this was one hurdle he had to overcome. Davies had issued his ultimatum, to be introduced to at least one person who was close to Giles, personally or professionally. Well, Giles hoped to be able to introduce four people to him soon.

He began slowly. "You know that things have not always gone well for me, that I haven't had someone to share my life with." He hoped to Heaven that Willow would not bring up Jenny; nor Buffy Olivia or, //Dear Lord//, her mother; he didn't think any of them would mention Ethan.

"Well," he continued, spreading his hands before him, "everything has changed. I have met someone and I _am_ in love."

At first there was stunned silence and then there were words flying about.

"Holy moly, G-Man!" Typical, wonderful Xander. Even when he called him _that_ name!

"Wow, Giles, that is, like, so cool." He knew Dawn would be happy for him.

"Are you sure, really sure, Giles?" He'd also expected Buffy to be cautious, considering how tumultuous her own love-life had been.

"So who is she, huh? Another Watcher or Slayer, Giles?" Now this he hadn't expected. Willow sounded sullen, defiant, as if he'd betrayed her personally. Surely she couldn't be harbouring ... no, she could. He often wondered at the elder Rosenbergs, giving birth to a brilliant daughter, but neglecting to inculcate her with the maturity to match her intellect.

As three pairs of eyes stared at Willow, he merely glanced at her and asked, casually, "Willow, will you give me a hand with the tea?"

Willow who, at this point, knew she was in trouble, looked back at him and replied with a false brightness, "Sure thing, Giles. No prob."

Even though the mood had been broken, the others were too curious to remain quiet. Giles could hear their frantic whispering even in the kitchen. But he had to focus on Willow. He wasn't a fool, he'd known she had a schoolgirl crush on him as well as on Xander. "Willow, you know that when we grow up we have to put our childish dreams away?"

There were already tears in Willow's eyes. "How'd you know? Did Buffy blab?"

"Nobody blabbed, Willow. But I knew enough to recognize a schoolgirl crush on me. So, what did you think? That we'd get married and have brainy babies together?"

Willow looked up at him, slightly ashamed. "Yeah, kinda something like that. But it was also because you were _always_ there. Well, except for not being there two years ago." He knew it would be a long time before any of them would let him forget about that. If he hadn't left ... but he didn't have the heart to ask himself what might have happened. He turned his attention back to Willow.

"And, then, Oz left, I met Tara, I lost Tara, I lost myself big time, found Kennedy who is off somewhere ... Brazil? But you were always there. Even my parents weren't ever there for me. Not the way it mattered."

Giles touched Willow's cheek tenderly. Even though the touch implied fatherly love, Willow turned her cheek burrowing into his hand, craving the intimacy. Giles knew it was up to him to pull back, so instead drew Willow into a tight hug. He whispered into her hair, "You'll always have me, Willow. I'll always be here for you, for all of you, no matter if I'm in love. You four are my friends and you are the only family I have left."

Willow let go of him so she could move back to look at his face. "Really?"

"Yes, really," was the reassuring reply. "Now, while I boil the water, why don't you go upstairs and wipe away those tears, wash your face?"

Willow nodded and, when she returned, was dry-eyed and composed. They carried the tea things into the lounge.

When they were seated again, Giles poured the tea and then composed himself for the next hurdle. After the emotional upheaval with Willow, he feared any other repercussions. Who knew how they would react? But he had to start soon, as Philippa would have to drive them back to London before it grew too late.

"Alright now, everybody comfortable? Does anyone need to use the facilities?" He shouldn't have asked. Three hands rose in the air. Willow at least didn't need to go, having done her multi-tasking during her visit a few minutes ago. "Go on up." He and Willow watched them pretending to race up the stairs, jabbering at who needed to go the most. If they were, God willing, all alive and well, he could imagine them acting the same way fifty years from now. He glanced at Willow and was pleased to see that she had regained her composure. Perhaps, now that one of her deepest secrets had been revealed, she would be more prepared to accept greater maturity in her behaviour. They smiled at one another and drank their tea in silence.

The silence was broken a few minutes later with the return of their friends. Giles didn't know whether to stand or remain seated. If he was sitting, he'd probably fidget. But standing would be worse. He'd want to pace. //No, better remain sitting.//

"I'm sure you have many questions, but I'll try to give you some information first. I entered into the relationship last fall. Unfortunately, we had a falling out on January 1st and I fully admit that I was a fool with some of my actions and assumptions. Since then, some very wonderful neighbours have intervened and told us we were both idiots and to patch things up. So, I've come to you because I want you to meet him and...." He stopped when he saw them give a start at the mention of "him" and Xander actually dropped his thankfully empty cup on the floor and did the only manly thing left, he fainted.

It was another fifteen minutes before any semblance of normalcy returned. Sometimes Giles wondered why he bothered. But he knew. These were his friends and this was important to him. So he dispatched Willow to fetch the smelling salts and Buffy and Dawn for a wet dishtowel and glass of cold water. Soon enough, Xander was alive and well, though probably less compos mentis than he would have preferred.

Giles glanced around, especially in Xander's direction. "Now that I have your complete attention, may I continue?"

He could hear Xander muttering under his breath, something about "nearly scaring a guy to death" but knew that Xander would get over it. Someone who faced what Dawn called the "oogly-booglies" on a daily basis had to have a strong constitution.

"Good. Thank-you. Now, there's not that much more to tell. But you need to know that I was trying to protect Mr. Davies – and also my undefined sexuality – by not introducing him here, not only to you, but to other members at HQ. He felt deeply hurt and it took three wonderful women to make both of us understand that we'd been stubborn and inflexible. Jo, El and Mil – don't worry, you'll meet them soon – have said that he will reconsider the relationship only if I introduce him to at least one person of my professional or personal acquaintance. And that would, ah, be you four. If you're willing, that is, to be associated with me."

"Wow." No judgment there, just surprise from Xander. At least he didn't seem on the verge of fainting again.

"I think I'd like to meet this Mr. Davies." Buffy. With emphatic nodding of the head from Dawn. "But, do I have to get the shovel speech ready?"

"No, Buffy, please, I implore you, no shovel speech. If anyone deserves it, then I do. I've hurt him and I'm trying to get things back to a better understanding."

"Okay, Giles, no shovel speech. But I'm keeping my eyes on both of you."

He smiled at her mock severity and evident caring. "Yes, Ma'am."

The only one who had not yet spoken was Willow. Again, he was concerned about her reaction.

"So, Giles, you're gay now?" Yes, that was expected. But at least she didn't sound bitter.

"No, Willow, I'm not. I'm bisexual, actually. Have known it for a long time, just never felt the need to define myself. But, if I'm to be honest with myself and have an honest relationship with Davies, I'm willing to let people know."

The light dawned in Willow's eyes. "Oooooh. So _that's_ why we had those Orientation workshop thingies. And then the three Slayers being expelled."

"Yes, you're right. I wanted people's opinions to be honestly expressed. And I wanted to bring some fresh ideas to create a better organization. Now that I've got it, I can be more open."

Xander was actually showing some interest. "So, Giles, tell us about this Davies guy. What's his first name?"

"I don't know."

It was Buffy's turn to look confused. "You don't know. Isn't that kinda weird?"

"Perhaps. But he has his reasons which I respect. Besides, you should get along famously with him. You've called me Giles for years; now you have someone else to call by his last name."

Dawn asked the next practical question. "So when's the big get-together?"

Giles was back on safe territory. "I was hoping you'd agree to Valentine's Day." He looked at them all with an eagerness they had not seen in his eyes for years.

Dawn was the first to respond. "Aww, that's so cute. Guys, we can do this right?"

Xander added, "Yeah, it's not as if I'm seeing anyone special right now." He added the joke on himself, "or half seeing," which earned him a jab in the side from Dawn. "What! It's just truth in advertising."

Willow and Buffy looked at each other and grinned. This felt like old times, best buds and all that. And, even though they had all – well Dawn was too young – loved and lost, they wanted to be there for Giles, to see somebody they cared about try to have a happy, normal life.

As normal as it ever got for the newest version of the Scoobies.

Giles's heart nearly broke from seeing the acceptance in their eyes, the love in their hearts. With the exception of Xander's theatrical faint and Willow's short burst of histrionics, everything had gone very well.

He was about to introduce Davies to the Scoobies.

He didn't think life would ever be the same for any of them again, most of all Davies. But what Davies wanted Davies was going to receive. And there was no turning back.


	11. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles has a second chance to make things right.

Rupert Giles had actually talked to his lover. Perhaps not in person, but over the telephone. After the auspicious start they'd both had with the Magpies and he with the Scoobies, he'd felt confident enough to ring up Davies, though not at a time when he was at home. Tuesday mornings, Davies taught an Architecture class at the university, so it was a safe bet to call him then. It was a simple message. "I miss you, Davies. I'd like us to be back together soon. And I do love you, you know."

When Giles returned home from work that evening, he was greeted by the insistent, persistent flashing of his answering device. As his number was known by only a handful of people (and he worked with most of them by day), the message could be from one of two sources: the Magpies or, he breathed in a hurried plea to any deity listening, Davies.

The anonymous deity was being benevolent. Perhaps it merely liked Tuesdays. He heard the voice of his lover on the other end. "Oh, Rupert, hello. I've missed you so much. If it weren't for work distracting me, well ... I don't know what I'd've done. Please call ... I don't care how late you get in." And, finally, their signature phrase, "I do love you, you know." Giles dropped the receiver after hearing the same words directed back at him. With trembling fingers //Stop that// he lifted the receiver from his lap and dialed the familiar number. It was picked up before the second ring had finished which meant that Davies was either walking around the place with his cordless or sitting, waiting patiently. He couldn't imagine his lover sitting and waiting and patience was yet another unfamiliar virtue where Davies was concerned.

"Davies."

"Hello, love." He heard a long breath being expelled at the other end, as if Davies had been holding his breath until he received this phone call. "How are you feeling?"

"Only way possible. Relieved. Thrilled to have heard your voice. Anxious to see you again."

"Good. And you won't have to wait much longer to see me. Love, could you gather the Magpies round, say in half an hour. I'd like to issue a special invitation to the four of you. As you've the speaker phone attachment, I won't have to repeat myself."

"Will I be happy with this invitation?"

Davies heard a small chuckle at the other end. "I think so. Well ... I hope so. You wanted to meet with any colleague of mine, so I'm introducing you to four of my dearest, closest friends and, as it happens, we work together."

He heard a nervous response, "Four of them?"

"Yes. They're an unusual bunch. Been with me for years."

"Well, if you trust them."

"Absolutely. With my life. We've had one or two little rough spots," //I suppose Willow's trying to bury me qualifies as one// "but I wouldn't part from them for anything."

"Alright, love. Let me ring off and call the Magpies. I don't believe they've anything on this evening. I'll call back in a bit."

"Thank you. I'll be waiting. And, Davies, I do love you."

"You're a silver-tongued rogue, you know. Which doesn't mean that I don't love you in return. Now, let me go, otherwise I shall burst from the anticipation. I'll ring back as soon as I've rounded up the Magpies."

* * * * *

The Magpies were chattering, their laughter and show of curious interest along the route enough of a distraction for Davies so that he could relax a bit, and not worry about the invitation they had accepted. It was February 13 and Giles had sent his car around to pick them up and bring them into London. Philippa was at the wheel again. Giles felt the Magpies would be impressed. And relieved. Davies, as well.

"Oh, look," Jo's voice rang out, "There's Thames House." Was that their destination? Could their made-up background for Giles be real? But, as the car drove by, they let out a quiet sigh, almost in unison. It would have been lovely, to have seen Giles in such a seemingly glamorous job. Even though it carried a high price tag.

Philippa permitted herself a small smile as she glanced back at them in the mirror. She'd driven by Thames House deliberately, giving them the impression that it was their destination. Not too much farther, she turned into a driveway. The guard saluted her as he raised the barrier. She heard the three gasps from behind and imagined that Davies would have gasped as well, but was probably too busy processing the architectural features before she took the car down a ramp to the underground entrance.

When she brought the car to a halt, she turned to them. "Ladies, Mr. Davies, I don't wish to alarm you but we will need to carry out a brief search before you are allowed on the premises. I apologize for the inconvenience but it's one of the new protocols implemented by Mr. Giles." That got their attention long enough that they were ushered out of the vehicle and led to a room with cubicles partitioned by curtains.

The Magpies stared as Davies was led to a cubicle by a male guard. They shared a collective gulp and then El spoke up. "Please, Philippa, we'd rather not be separated."

"You're sure, now? It may get a bit crowded."

"Yes, please. We don't mind the crowding."

"Very well." Philippa motioned for them to step to the largest cubicle ahead, with a scanning device at its entrance.

El threw her friends a triumphant look and mouthed, "Spies. I told you."

But the other two couldn't whisper back as Philippa was speaking again. "If you would kindly remove your shoes and place them and your handbags on the conveyor belt."

If any of the Magpies had been smiling before, their faces were sober now. It was all in fun to play at spies, but they knew what the reality was. Explosives could be secreted on a body or in everyday clothing. Their shoes and purses were scanned, then examined manually by another woman who then left Philippa to escort them individually under and through the large scanning device. When none of them heard any beeping or whining to indicate concealed weapons, they were relieved, although they knew that there could have been something detected that would have triggered a silent alarm. Not by any of them, mind you, but one could never be too careful.

After they had all dutifully filed through the scanner, they stood, uncertainty written on their faces. Philippa smiled, trying to reassure them. "We're nearly done, just a quick pat over, for which I apologize again."

Jo stepped forward. "Stuff and nonsense. Don't apologize for doing your job. If Mr. Giles thinks it's necessary, that's all we need to know." Jo tried not to fidget as she tended to be ticklish. But the pat-down was quick, even though she could tell that Philippa's touch was thorough and professional. As she was waved through, she retrieved her shoes and sat down to slip them on. Jo watched as her friends were brought through and subjected to the same examination.

Having retrieved their belongings, they watched Philippa speak into a communications device before turning to address them. "When the barrier slides open, please go through. Mr. Davies will be waiting for you on the other side and then you'll all be taken to see Mr. Giles."

Barrier? What barrier? There appeared to be a solid wall before them. Suddenly, there was a hairline crack where no opening had seemed possible. As the right half of the wall slid sideways, they saw Davies standing there with a puzzled look on his face. He seemed relieved to see them.

The guard standing next to him spoke. "Ladies, Sir, if you'll please follow me. Mr. Giles and the others are expecting you."

They followed the man, not even daring to whisper their questions. The guard ushered them into a lift nearby. Davies was the first to note that the interior was elegant but subdued, as if it had been designed by someone who understood what to do with unlimited funds without being crass. He knew of only one or two famous architects but thought the most likely candidate had retired years ago. Though he knew, for the right client, not necessarily the right price, architects had been enticed to come out of retirement before to build one last edifice, employing the latest in modern technology and refined building materials.

As the lift ascended to the top floor, so did Davies's anxiety. Though he remained hopeful. Ten long weeks was too long to be separated from his lover, his love.

When the lift doors opened, the guard indicated with his hand that they were to step out. They were in what appeared to be a private club with the London skyline an impressive sight through the large windows on all four sides. When they stepped out, they saw five people sitting on one of the couches by a window. The conversation stopped as Davies saw Giles rise and approach him. He wanted to run to him, wanted to be in his arms. But his legs had turned into bread pudding. So, he stood by the lift as the doors whooshed closed. The Magpies had started walking towards the couches where they saw the four people, _young_ people, who had risen and were awaiting them with smiles on their faces.

The Scoobies didn't find it awkward to stand and wait for the three women to approach them. But they were stunned to see Giles reach Davies ... finally ... saw him place his hands on the man's face and kiss him. Xander looked down, then up. Still kissing. Closed his eyes, counted to ten. Opened them. Still kissing. Nearly felt compelled to call out, "Hey, get a room, you two." But decided to be grown-up about all of this. Still, if they weren't done kissing in another minute, he'd probably start muttering "PDA" under his breath.

Xander's attention finally switched over to the Magpies who had just reached them. As they all introduced themselves, Xander threw a quick glance at the two men. Oh, good, they'd _finally_ stopped with the kissing. Giles was still holding the man's face and they were whispering. His curiosity satisfied, Xander turned back to the three women and wondered if they could adopt them ... or be adopted by them. They just seemed to be so warm, so motherly. He threw himself into the introductions. He could see they were curious about his patch, but not in an unkind way.

A few seconds later and Giles and Davies were at the periphery of the group. All eyes turned to the couple. They heard Giles say, "Everyone, I'd proud to present Davies to you." Buffy stepped forward first and offered Davies her hand. "Hi, I'm Buffy." The others followed her example, though Willow nearly meeped and Dawn giggled and Xander stammered. Davies was surprised to see how young they looked, though he could see the footprint of tragedy, of sorrow, of loss revealed in their eyes. How could anyone so young – he doubted Dawn was even 20 – have been so affected. He knew he would hear their stories; Rupert had promised him that all of his questions would be answered, to the best of their abilities. Certainly, after the search of their bodies and belongings, he didn't think anything would surprise him.

He was wrong.

MI5 would have been child's play in comparison. After he'd listened to them talking, it seemed all at once, the words swam in his brain. One girl in all the world ... Slayer ... werewolves ... Watchers ... demons ... witches (that one he could grasp) ... the key (this one much less so). Oh, and let's not forget about vampires with souls, two of them. In desperation, Davies turned to Xander. "So, young man, what special powers do you have?"

"I, uh, I ... save them." He glanced significantly at Willow, at Buffy and at Giles and, to a lesser extent, at Dawn. They all nodded.

"Nearly destroyed the world. But Xander talked me out of it, loved me until I came back to myself." //Nearly destroyed the world? Dear Lord.//

"The first time I died, Xander revived me." //The first time? How many more times were there?//

"Xander found me when I was being tortured and rescued me." //Thank you for that, Xander.//

Only Dawn offered the least fantastic explanation. "Um, bad boyfriend choices?" He just didn't want to know _how_ bad.

Although his rational mind was shouting at him to reject these statements as part of a script written by the most imaginative ... incredibly imaginative by industry standards ... man in Hollywood, he knew ... in his heart ... that everything they'd talked about was true. He'd seen it mapped out over Giles's flesh, Giles who tried valiantly not to flinch whenever Davies touched his back unexpectedly. Saw it in their eyes. And knew that, if he remained in Giles's life, it would be his burden, his secret, too.

He glanced at them all, including the Magpies who seemed to have been equally stunned by the revelations. "Thank you for trusting me, for trusting us. I can only hope that we will never do anything to betray that trust." It wasn't a nebulous promise. After hearing of the First's ability to assume the form of any dead person, Davies was amazed that any person could try to withstand such guile, such power in a persuasive costume. And win. He put his arm around Giles's waist, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

And that was all that was said. For all they could hear next was Xander. "Hey, starving here. And there's food over there. How's about we move from here to there?"

Everyone laughed at the easing of the tension. Giles stood up and extended his hand to Davies. "Please help yourselves. I hope you'll all find something you enjoy."

The others stood, with the Scoobies leading the Magpies towards the tables. Giles heard babbling. From Willow. No surprise there. "We all helped. I laid out the silverware, Dawn folded the napkins, Buffy put out the glasses."

There was a grumble from Xander. "Hey, what about me? I helped, too."

Willow giggled. "Oops, sorry. Xander helped, too. He tasted everything." The laughter that followed drowned out any further complaints from Xander.

Giles held Davies back as the others surged around the tables, helping themselves to drinks and a variety of food. "Davies, when the others leave, I'd like you to spend the night so that we can celebrate Valentine's Day properly ... or improperly, if you'd like. Will you stay?" He looked into the other man's calm blue eyes with a pleading look in his own.

The answer was unhurried and self-assured. "Tonight ... and forever."

The two men walked towards the group already tasting a bit of this and a sip of that. Both Scoobies and Magpies were mixing freely, comfortable despite the differences in age and life experience. But what they shared in common was the love for the men who had brought them together.


	12. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles and Davies reconcile.

The two men had slipped away early from the gathering. They felt rather like newlyweds going away on their honeymoon. But they didn't have far to travel. Only one floor below where Giles kept a private apartment and some smaller rooms for entertaining.

As the lift descended, Giles managed to stop kissing Davies long enough to let him know that the Magpies would be his guests for the night as well, just another floor lower which was where the Scoobies lived as well. Giles wondered if any of them would get any sleep at all that night, the seven below from non-stop talking and the two of them from ... unfinished business.

When the lift doors opened, Giles pulled an unresisting Davies into the room. For it was just one big room. Without the need or desire to entertain formally in his personal quarters, Giles had made this space his sanctuary. There were several areas designated for different purposes, each area defined by its own oriental rug.

The king sized bed on a low platform dominated one area, the cream coloured linens complemented by the cream and celadon rug.

On one side was a glass dining table with two chairs in charcoal wool, the set framed by a rug in cream, burgundy and gray. Beyond the dining area was the kitchen with its stainless steel appliances and gleaming black cabinets, all reflected in the polished black marble floor beneath. 

Behind the lift was a lounge area, with two forest green suede couches, a plasma TV on a low chrome and glass table, two smaller glass tables in front of the couches, all resting quietly on a matching green, pale pink and gray rug. There were a few books in the lounge, but nothing to give it a cluttered air. No candles, but spot lights recessed in the ceiling to highlight the individual areas. Also, no art on the walls, though Davies noticed a large framed photograph of the Scoobies over the plasma TV.

Adding a personalized statement, each area had flowers: from irises in bud vases on the night tables, to a bowl of lilies on the dining table to birds of paradise in a large Chinese porcelain vase on the floor in the lounge. Finally, beyond the lounge and leading back to the bed area Davies could see the open door to the bathroom. And the flicker of candlelight.

Davies turned with an expectant. wistful look in his eyes. "Were you thinking of proposing a bath?" He could see a twinkle in Giles's eyes when he said "proposing".

"I think there's room on the agenda for a bath." Giles gave his lover a gentle push in that direction, following closely behind. This time, though, the disrobing was less perfunctory. Giles slipped his lover's blazer off his shoulders and down his arms, then loosened his tie and slipped it over his head before tossing both on a bench. Then, interspersed with kisses, he unhooked each button, letting his fingers slip beneath the widening fabric to caress the heated though trembling flesh. He left the shirt on while lowering himself slowly down onto one knee. He knew his body would be protesting in the morning, but hoped that his lover's presence would make it hurt less.

Davies looked down, stunned and concerned for his lover's welfare, but did not utter a word, merely held on to his shoulders. He lifted each foot in turn so that Giles could slide off his patent leather loafers and socks. And then he felt sure, strong fingers unfastening his belt buckle, loosening his belt; finally the same fingers slid alongside his zip, teasing his erection behind the soft flannel, before finally - _finally_ \- dragging the zip down to reveal Davies's surprise, pink silk boxers covered in red hearts. The flannel trousers slid down his legs to pool around his ankles. The boxers would require some ... assistance in their removal. However, Davies was worried when he felt the body below him shaking. Davies grasped the shoulders more firmly and drew Giles back up to meet his eyes. He needn't have worried. Giles was laughing silently, so hard that there were tears in his eyes.

"Where ... where on earth did you get these? Don't tell me you went into a tacky sex shoppe?"

Davies simply replied, "No, actually I had the Magpies go into a tacky sex shoppe. I believe they found some items they planned to, er, use on their husbands when they return home. I think they rather enjoyed themselves." He had to stop speaking because Giles was now draped over his shoulders, giggles escaping from his lips every few seconds.

He gasped between the giggles. "Davies, you are an absolute treasure. I haven't laughed like that in years."

Davies merely quirked an eyebrow. "Means you'll have to keep me around. Absolute treasures seem to be a dwindling resource these days. You should hold on to the one you have."

The soft but serious response stunned him. "I intend to." Before Davies could react, Giles had grasped his silk covered cock and squeezed. Then stepped back to begin stripping himself. When Davies was about to protest, Giles pressed a thumb to his lips. "Next time you get to undress me first." In sixty seconds he was down to his underwear, leopard print boxers. Not very Valentine-y, but a daring gift from the Xander-less Scoobies, who had enjoyed the shopping-for-Giles expedition and had also bought him a Valentine gift set (pink milk bath, bath crystals and bubble bath). Seeing Davies about to burst out laughing, he cautioned him. "Not one word. The girls went shopping sans Xander. And I love them dearly for it. Besides, I think these show off my assets quite nicely."

The assets in question were appreciating in size considerably, creating an almost painful bulge behind the constricting cloth. Davies murmured, "Here, allow me," before tugging them down Giles's hips, freeing the trapped erection. He slipped off his own boxers before tossing everything on top of the bench. There were going to be massive wrinkles in everything come morning, but he didn't care if he went home looking like an accordion.

Davies picked up one of the pink bottles. "Bubble bath?"

"Why not." As Giles turned on the taps of the large sunken tub, Davies poured some of the bubbly liquid in. As they both stepped in and began frolicking in the foam, the laughter rang out for several minutes.

And then it just ceased. Their hands were gliding over soap-slicked flesh, their legs entangled, cocks touching and balls bobbing. Giles eventually whispered, "Shall we take this to the bed?"

Davies gulped, but nodded his head in assent. Giles stepped out first and reached for a nearby robe for himself before pulling Davies out and embracing him from behind as he slipped a robe over his body. The two were still, barely breathing, assessing what they were about to do. Giles nuzzled his lover's neck before trailing his tongue up to nip at an ear and suck it between his lips. That earned him a strangled moan. And, then, unexpectedly, Giles felt the body tense within his arms. He drew back slowly and gently turned Davies around to face him. "What's wrong, love?"

Hesitant words in response. "I'm, that is, um, oh, blast it all, I'm afraid."

"I'm not surprised. Aren't we all at the beginning of a new relationship?"

"No, it's more than that. Listen, could we sit down ... anywhere but the bed?"

Giles pulled him out of the bathroom and towards the calming influence of the lounge. He pushed his lover down onto one of the couches. "I don't know what's wrong – but, before we talk, could I offer you a wee bit to drink?"

Grateful eyes met his. "Glayva, if you have it. If not, then Drambuie, please."

Giles walked to the kitchen and examined his liquor cart. He came back with the bottle in one hand and two cordial glasses in the other. He poured them both a small measure, then offered one to Davies. "Odd drink, that. I'd never have expected Scotch and honey and herbs to make such a satisfying drink."

They sipped in silence. Giles knew better than to press Davies. Whatever was troubling the man would come out when he was ready.

A few minutes later, Davies lifted his head. "Forgive me."

Giles had a puzzled look on his face. "Whatever for; you've done nothing wrong."

"Perhaps not. But I haven't told you everything. When I mentioned we'd never needed supplies," there was that familiar euphemism, "it wasn't because we decided we didn't need to use them because we were monogamous, it was because ...."

Giles picked up the thread. "Because, Dear Lord, you'd never done it, not gone that far. But why, love? What prevented you from taking that next step?" His eyes clouded over, lost in remembrance. "Being taken is not about weakness ... it's a glorious surrender."

"It wasn't just that. We were afraid of causing each other pain, that we wouldn't get past that. And we were stubborn as mules. You'd think with all the information around, the internet, or these gay groups popping up all around, we could have found out how to do things right. It's quite pathetic, really." Davies ignored the soothing responses Giles was making. There was something even darker he had to release. "That's not all. Sometimes I wonder if I really loved him as much as I thought I did. No, don't shake your head at me. I wouldn't allow him to fuck me and I didn't especially care to fuck him."

Once again, the use of profanity was proof of how upset Davies was. Giles had to get through to him soon. "Love, don't say that. I believe the two of you had an amazing love. And I never met the man. But the Magpies saw the two of you every day. I'm sure they'd confirm how deep your feelings were for each other."

"Alright, you can stop convincing me. I did love him. And he did love me. But, perhaps he just wasn't the one." Davies stopped to take a deep breath and it seemed as if Giles had stopped breathing entirely. "The one I was meant to be with ... the one to whom I would gladly offer my body in, as you put it, glorious surrender."

Giles let out the breath he thought he'd have to hold forever and felt the fleeting beat of his heart regaining a steady rhythm. "Perhaps, the first time," he trailed his fingertips down Davies's chest stopping at his waist and sliding his hand around to his back, "you would do me the honour of taking me ... in glorious surrender. And, no, if you're wondering, you won't hurt me, you can't hurt me; so, if you were planning on using that argument, I've just emptied your arsenal."

Davies looked stunned, his mouth had dropped open. Giles took the opportunity to remove his hand before catching those inviting lips between his teeth and sucking. As his action was met with a much happier moan, he let go and stood up, his robe falling away from his body. He stood there, naked, nipples hardening, cock rising gracefully, willing Davies to accept his offer.

Davies took a long minute to let his eyes linger over the body before him, down to his toes and back up to his eyes. And then he smiled, the joy lighting up his face. "Yes" seemed to be almost an afterthought.

Giles walked back towards the bed area and Davies heard a drawer being opened and various items, _supplies_ , being removed. For the first time, Davies was not afraid of what he was about to do. Excited, yes. Nervous, yes. But he knew that fear was something he would never experience because of Rupert. For Rupert, yes. For his safety, definitely. But he knew that Rupert would never hurt him. So he let his own robe drop to the floor as he stood up.

He found Giles lying face down on the bed, head pillowed on his folded arms, legs spread slightly. Giles spoke softly. "I hate to bring this up, but are your nails trimmed?"

Davies walked over to sit on the bed, bringing his hand over for Giles to inspect. "You tell me."

Giles chuckled. "You might want to give the middle ones a bit of a file. I've put an emery board out with the other things."

Giles kept his eyes closed as he listened to Davies filing what seemed to be more than a couple of nails. Still, as it was his ass that was going to be taken, he didn't begrudge the precautionary measure. Then he felt a smooth hand in the middle of his back, fingers widespread. Davies had moved to kneel between his thighs. Giles deliberately kept the tension out of his back. Davies was facing his fears; he could face his own _demons_. He whispered, "Please," and felt the hands glide over the roughened terrain. Then up to his neck and back down, going lower with each pass.

When Davies had placed both hands over the cheeks, Giles seemed to melt into the mattress. For Davies, this was a good sign that Giles liked what he was doing. But it was time to press on. "Tell me, what do I do now?"

"Open me up a bit with your fingers. Stretch me."

"What do I use?"

"Well, the lube's right there and you could use a glove. I prefer a condom, myself."

The silence was broken only by the sound of a cap being snapped open and a foil packet being torn. It was a shock to feel the cool lube dribbling down through his crack. But he would survive.

Then Davies placed his bare left hand onto his left cheek and spread it, giving him the room to press down upon the puckered opening with two fingers encased in the condom. Giles wriggled happily and sighed. It had been too long since he'd been on the receiving end of things and certainly never with anyone so inexperienced. But he was confident he had enough experience for the both of them.

Davies let out a sudden hiss, as his cloaked fingers were sucked in through the pucker, sinking into a world of ... heat ... swelling ... throbbing. Davies felt like crying out. If only he'd known that even the preliminaries could be this enjoyable. Even his cock bobbed in agreement. He whispered, in awe, "What do I do next?"

The answer was slow in coming, as if forming the words meant too great an effort. "Slide your fingers ... in ... and out. Yes ... just like that. Press down ... try to find the swelling." He groaned. "Yes, love ... that's it. Now stroke it a bit."

Davies was amazed to see and hear how Rupert was reacting to him ... to his touch. He was trembling, not from the exertion of holding his hand in check, but from the excitement that kept building within him. He gasped out, "What else?"

"Another finger. I need more of you in me."

Davies carefully withdrew his fingers partially and slipped a third one into the condom. And then slid them back in, into the velvet darkness where there was no sound, no light, just pleasure. He knew ... _he knew_ ... that he'd be buried in that welcome void soon, sinking deep without a struggle. He was beginning to lose himself. His fingers were his cock. His arm was his cock. Every part of his body was being taken over by the throbbing of his cock.

Giles sensed the tension building in his lover's body. He managed through clenched teeth, "Please.Take.Me.Now."

As Davies slipped his fingers free and drew the condom off, Giles rose onto his hands and knees, assuming a position that would be easiest for the inexperienced man. He heard the blissful sound of a second condom being removed from its packaging and the slip-slide of it hugging the contours of the lovely cock that was about to enter him. And, then, the fingers were back at his opening as the other hand guided its precious cargo into the berth awaiting it.

One gasp. One groan.

A stillness as each adjusted to the presence of the other.

Davies couldn't tell if it was his cock throbbing, trapped blood pulsing within his lover's body.

Giles couldn't feel if it was his body in pre-orgasmic spasms clutching his lover's cock.

None of it mattered. Davies surrendered to Giles while possessing his body, made privy to the wonders of the universe.

Giles owned Davies while being penetrated, shafted, allowing new light and life to renew him.

Then Giles swayed forward, with Davies following. The rhythm was languid at the beginning, no apparent goal in sight. But both men were breathing raggedly, panting, muscles straining from the exertion. The moan of one flowing through the other's body before being returned.

A gasp from Giles and a plea. "Davies, please, touch me. I'm so close."

Davies moved both hands, one to the hip before him and the other to the cock that was demanding his assistance. Not much, by the feel of it. The cock jumped in his hand as hot spurts of liquid splashed against the body beneath him. Then his cock was seized, trapped within his lover's body as the contractions began, bringing his release closer with every hump and spasm.

And then the fury was upon him. He could feel his release building and flowing like liquid fire sparking through his balls and out, propelled deep into his lover's body. He kept thrusting long past the aftershocks, delaying the inevitable withdrawal and disposal of the condom. Because he just wanted to stay attached, pressing Rupert's body down, and sleeping until noon.

But reality in the form of Giles reasserted itself. "Davies, love, you'd better ...."

"I know," was the relaxed reply. "I just wanted to fall asleep connected."

"I gathered that. We can talk about the possibilities later. How about some sleep anyway?"

"Only if you promise to do to me what I did tonight?"

"What? Fuck you?"

"Mmm. I was thinking along the lines of presenting my body to you ... in glorious surrender. Will you be up for it?"

"Let's try the milk bath first. Then we'll see." Giles yelped out his final words, as Davies had slid his fingers forward and was stroking his balls. "Just what do you think you're doing?"

Davies seemed to be lost in thought. "Encouraging you ... or at least seminal production." Davies had never heard his name growled before. "Davies, I swear," but then cut off any other words Giles might have uttered by seizing his lips in a kiss. This aggressive thing did seem like fun. But tomorrow he'd let Rupert take him for a glorious ride. He would surrender ... all of himself. And then, only then, he would know that he truly belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to end this series, so reserved the right to bring them back at any time. Which I did, with more drabbles and ficlets.


End file.
